| Song | Apathy 83 |
| Artist | Ian Hunter |
| Album | All-American Boy |
| 作词 : Hunter | |
| Hunter | |
| I'm standin' on the edge of Vesuvius, my mouth is runnin' dry | |
| Drunk on wine and wisdom giving it all away | |
| Old enough to hate tomorrow, young enough not to know where to run | |
| Oh there ain't no rock'n'roll no more, just the music of the young. | |
| And it's apathy for the devil, apathy for the devil | |
| Apathy for the devil and apathy for the son. | |
| The moon shines brightly on some summer lawn and envy caught like a leaf | |
| Comes floating down upon this frozen desert sand, spitting bullets through the night | |
| The siren wails on the ambulance, compassion touches my head and it bleeds | |
| Oh there ain't no rock'n'roll no more, just the sickly sound of greed. | |
| And it's apathy for the devil, apathy for the devil | |
| Apathy for the devil and apathy for the creed. | |
| No more gardens for the gardenless, no more havens for the havenless | |
| No more helpers for the helplessness, no more somethings for a less | |
| For the law is now the lawless | |
| And the flaw is now the flawless | |
| And the crime is now accepted | |
| And the criminal respected | |
| And now evil gets elected | |
| And now sinful get selected | |
| Heed a president proven rotten | |
| Now officially forgotten | |
| Was it your general Sheridan who once said | |
| 'The only good good man is a dead good man' ? It was not me babe | |
| I just said : 'Keep your head and your bread well down under them floorboards'. | |
| And you, you look like you gone with the wind, running naked through the streets | |
| Wired out, tired out, transcendental mental, only laughing in your sleep | |
| Nostalgia is starting to focus too late, imagination is starting to itch | |
| Oh there ain't no rock'n'roll no more, just the music of the rich. | |
| Well and it's apathy for the devil, apathy for the devil | |
| Apathy for the devil, apathy's at fever pitch. |
| zuò cí : Hunter | |
| Hunter | |
| I' m standin' on the edge of Vesuvius, my mouth is runnin' dry | |
| Drunk on wine and wisdom giving it all away | |
| Old enough to hate tomorrow, young enough not to know where to run | |
| Oh there ain' t no rock' n' roll no more, just the music of the young. | |
| And it' s apathy for the devil, apathy for the devil | |
| Apathy for the devil and apathy for the son. | |
| The moon shines brightly on some summer lawn and envy caught like a leaf | |
| Comes floating down upon this frozen desert sand, spitting bullets through the night | |
| The siren wails on the ambulance, compassion touches my head and it bleeds | |
| Oh there ain' t no rock' n' roll no more, just the sickly sound of greed. | |
| And it' s apathy for the devil, apathy for the devil | |
| Apathy for the devil and apathy for the creed. | |
| No more gardens for the gardenless, no more havens for the havenless | |
| No more helpers for the helplessness, no more somethings for a less | |
| For the law is now the lawless | |
| And the flaw is now the flawless | |
| And the crime is now accepted | |
| And the criminal respected | |
| And now evil gets elected | |
| And now sinful get selected | |
| Heed a president proven rotten | |
| Now officially forgotten | |
| Was it your general Sheridan who once said | |
| ' The only good good man is a dead good man' nbsp? It was not me babe | |
| I just said nbsp: ' Keep your head and your bread well down under them floorboards'. | |
| And you, you look like you gone with the wind, running naked through the streets | |
| Wired out, tired out, transcendental mental, only laughing in your sleep | |
| Nostalgia is starting to focus too late, imagination is starting to itch | |
| Oh there ain' t no rock' n' roll no more, just the music of the rich. | |
| Well and it' s apathy for the devil, apathy for the devil | |
| Apathy for the devil, apathy' s at fever pitch. |