Song | The Echo Sequence |
Artist | Hallelujah the Hills |
Album | Colonial Drones |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : Walsh | |
casually break my fingers so I can't work the key | |
the master painters all look ashamed | |
they don't know the thrill of a jukebox fade | |
church bells ringing out commercials for Jesus | |
the future ex-girlfriends all promise to leave us | |
I dreamt of this well | |
bringing you back to live in burnt out motels | |
it's my junk mail dream to turn this car around | |
and drive back down to where my body was found | |
they say I was focused on slowing down time | |
hands inside the clock when I was hit from behind | |
there's a possibility | |
this predictability | |
will eventually grow wild and bend | |
then I'll know | |
I never meant to meet you | |
but that's what the sequence puts you through | |
curse this mind control | |
making me leak these ideas so very slow | |
I'm an excerpt of an abridged serial | |
you never had a job so menial | |
to keep track of track of distractions that impede my path | |
and pinpoint their origin and slice them in half | |
but there's a possibility | |
this predictability | |
will eventually grow wild and bend | |
for better or worse | |
I never called the cab a hearse | |
I answered questions with a pause | |
and tried to break what you defend | |
but ended up drifting far from shore | |
washed up in some foreign land | |
and tried to find a way back home | |
but when I did you shrugged and said | |
here's where the echo sequence ends |
zuo qu : Walsh | |
casually break my fingers so I can' t work the key | |
the master painters all look ashamed | |
they don' t know the thrill of a jukebox fade | |
church bells ringing out commercials for Jesus | |
the future exgirlfriends all promise to leave us | |
I dreamt of this well | |
bringing you back to live in burnt out motels | |
it' s my junk mail dream to turn this car around | |
and drive back down to where my body was found | |
they say I was focused on slowing down time | |
hands inside the clock when I was hit from behind | |
there' s a possibility | |
this predictability | |
will eventually grow wild and bend | |
then I' ll know | |
I never meant to meet you | |
but that' s what the sequence puts you through | |
curse this mind control | |
making me leak these ideas so very slow | |
I' m an excerpt of an abridged serial | |
you never had a job so menial | |
to keep track of track of distractions that impede my path | |
and pinpoint their origin and slice them in half | |
but there' s a possibility | |
this predictability | |
will eventually grow wild and bend | |
for better or worse | |
I never called the cab a hearse | |
I answered questions with a pause | |
and tried to break what you defend | |
but ended up drifting far from shore | |
washed up in some foreign land | |
and tried to find a way back home | |
but when I did you shrugged and said | |
here' s where the echo sequence ends |
zuò qǔ : Walsh | |
casually break my fingers so I can' t work the key | |
the master painters all look ashamed | |
they don' t know the thrill of a jukebox fade | |
church bells ringing out commercials for Jesus | |
the future exgirlfriends all promise to leave us | |
I dreamt of this well | |
bringing you back to live in burnt out motels | |
it' s my junk mail dream to turn this car around | |
and drive back down to where my body was found | |
they say I was focused on slowing down time | |
hands inside the clock when I was hit from behind | |
there' s a possibility | |
this predictability | |
will eventually grow wild and bend | |
then I' ll know | |
I never meant to meet you | |
but that' s what the sequence puts you through | |
curse this mind control | |
making me leak these ideas so very slow | |
I' m an excerpt of an abridged serial | |
you never had a job so menial | |
to keep track of track of distractions that impede my path | |
and pinpoint their origin and slice them in half | |
but there' s a possibility | |
this predictability | |
will eventually grow wild and bend | |
for better or worse | |
I never called the cab a hearse | |
I answered questions with a pause | |
and tried to break what you defend | |
but ended up drifting far from shore | |
washed up in some foreign land | |
and tried to find a way back home | |
but when I did you shrugged and said | |
here' s where the echo sequence ends |