Song | Something's Off |
Artist | Hatebreed |
Album | The Concrete Confessional |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作词 : James Jasta/Frank Novinec/Chris Beattie/Wayne Lozinak/Matthey P. Byrne | |
作曲 : James Jasta/Frank Novinec/Chris Beattie/Wayne Lozinak/Matthey P. Byrne | |
There's a beast in every man who breathes | |
With him from birth until beside him in the grave | |
A hideous presence just aching for release | |
Its chains aren't as strong as its memory | |
It lies dormant so far from dead | |
Grating on me, this uninvited sense | |
Its whisper like branches as they bend | |
Twisting, grinding just threatening to snap | |
Floods of frustration, cascading in my skull | |
On the axis back and forth, the swinging pendulum | |
So much damage, bashing each wall | |
I hear the sand pounding in the hourglass as it falls | |
[Chorus] | |
Sometimes I just wish I could shut it all | |
Off, off | |
The endless rage that tells me something's | |
Off, off | |
The voice that's spitting lies, just turn it | |
Off, off | |
Tear away the scabs, I want them | |
Off, off | |
The demon on my back, just pull him off | |
There it is again, telling you you can't | |
That lump in your throat, you fight to swallow back | |
There it is again, hoping that you won't | |
Wishing failure but not giving up the ghost | |
Silent voices, stabbing at peace | |
Pushing off fingers from the ledge of sanity | |
Like a thousand leeches, feeding on your wits | |
Making something meaningless seem significant | |
[Chorus] | |
Sometimes I just wish I could shut it all | |
Off, off | |
The endless rage that tells me something's | |
Off, off | |
The voice that's spitting lies, just turn it | |
Off, off | |
Tear away the scabs, I want them | |
Off, off | |
The demon on my back, just pull him off | |
This uninvited guest inside my brain | |
With every threat whispered I feel nothing | |
And when I'm at my best it intervenes | |
How can I get anyone else to relate | |
Silent voices, stabbing at peace | |
On the edge, pushing my fingers off, off | |
[Chorus] |
zuo ci : James Jasta Frank Novinec Chris Beattie Wayne Lozinak Matthey P. Byrne | |
zuo qu : James Jasta Frank Novinec Chris Beattie Wayne Lozinak Matthey P. Byrne | |
There' s a beast in every man who breathes | |
With him from birth until beside him in the grave | |
A hideous presence just aching for release | |
Its chains aren' t as strong as its memory | |
It lies dormant so far from dead | |
Grating on me, this uninvited sense | |
Its whisper like branches as they bend | |
Twisting, grinding just threatening to snap | |
Floods of frustration, cascading in my skull | |
On the axis back and forth, the swinging pendulum | |
So much damage, bashing each wall | |
I hear the sand pounding in the hourglass as it falls | |
Chorus | |
Sometimes I just wish I could shut it all | |
Off, off | |
The endless rage that tells me something' s | |
Off, off | |
The voice that' s spitting lies, just turn it | |
Off, off | |
Tear away the scabs, I want them | |
Off, off | |
The demon on my back, just pull him off | |
There it is again, telling you you can' t | |
That lump in your throat, you fight to swallow back | |
There it is again, hoping that you won' t | |
Wishing failure but not giving up the ghost | |
Silent voices, stabbing at peace | |
Pushing off fingers from the ledge of sanity | |
Like a thousand leeches, feeding on your wits | |
Making something meaningless seem significant | |
Chorus | |
Sometimes I just wish I could shut it all | |
Off, off | |
The endless rage that tells me something' s | |
Off, off | |
The voice that' s spitting lies, just turn it | |
Off, off | |
Tear away the scabs, I want them | |
Off, off | |
The demon on my back, just pull him off | |
This uninvited guest inside my brain | |
With every threat whispered I feel nothing | |
And when I' m at my best it intervenes | |
How can I get anyone else to relate | |
Silent voices, stabbing at peace | |
On the edge, pushing my fingers off, off | |
Chorus |
zuò cí : James Jasta Frank Novinec Chris Beattie Wayne Lozinak Matthey P. Byrne | |
zuò qǔ : James Jasta Frank Novinec Chris Beattie Wayne Lozinak Matthey P. Byrne | |
There' s a beast in every man who breathes | |
With him from birth until beside him in the grave | |
A hideous presence just aching for release | |
Its chains aren' t as strong as its memory | |
It lies dormant so far from dead | |
Grating on me, this uninvited sense | |
Its whisper like branches as they bend | |
Twisting, grinding just threatening to snap | |
Floods of frustration, cascading in my skull | |
On the axis back and forth, the swinging pendulum | |
So much damage, bashing each wall | |
I hear the sand pounding in the hourglass as it falls | |
Chorus | |
Sometimes I just wish I could shut it all | |
Off, off | |
The endless rage that tells me something' s | |
Off, off | |
The voice that' s spitting lies, just turn it | |
Off, off | |
Tear away the scabs, I want them | |
Off, off | |
The demon on my back, just pull him off | |
There it is again, telling you you can' t | |
That lump in your throat, you fight to swallow back | |
There it is again, hoping that you won' t | |
Wishing failure but not giving up the ghost | |
Silent voices, stabbing at peace | |
Pushing off fingers from the ledge of sanity | |
Like a thousand leeches, feeding on your wits | |
Making something meaningless seem significant | |
Chorus | |
Sometimes I just wish I could shut it all | |
Off, off | |
The endless rage that tells me something' s | |
Off, off | |
The voice that' s spitting lies, just turn it | |
Off, off | |
Tear away the scabs, I want them | |
Off, off | |
The demon on my back, just pull him off | |
This uninvited guest inside my brain | |
With every threat whispered I feel nothing | |
And when I' m at my best it intervenes | |
How can I get anyone else to relate | |
Silent voices, stabbing at peace | |
On the edge, pushing my fingers off, off | |
Chorus |