| Song | Bound To Forget |
| Artist | Jim White |
| Album | No Such Place |
| 作词 : White | |
| Fools wind blowing up brown bible verses. | |
| Dust storm of memory. | |
| Truck stop reverie. 3 | |
| AM in my home town, not a soul stirring around. | |
| Mr. Trucker | |
| Man, don't slow down in this little town. ' | |
| Cause I'm traveling faster than the speed of regret. | |
| What I was born knowing | |
| I was bound to forget. | |
| In the blindness of being, what | |
| I was born seeing | |
| I was just plain bound to forget. | |
| Yes, I was just plain bound to forget. | |
| Now my tank run dry two hours out of | |
| Tucson by three little crosses on the side of the highway. | |
| Still as a box full of busted watches, | |
| I settle debts with the dead and keep right on... | |
| I keep on keeping on. | |
| Pedal to the metal on the wide open highway. | |
| Criss-cross the high plains of bright-eyed solitude, | |
| I tailgate a truck-load of tabula rasa...'til my mind go clearer than the highway west of | |
| El Paso. Guess | |
| I'm traveling faster than the speed of regret. | |
| What I was born knowing | |
| I was bound to forget. | |
| In the blindness of being what | |
| I was born seeing, | |
| I was just plain bound to forget. | |
| Yes I was just plain bound to forget. | |
| Now, 24/7 in the end my friend, gotta go at | |
| God's speed, no never relent, lest the soul-sucking, sneaky-deaky, belly-aching past like a ssssnake in the grasssssssss ssssstrike and bury your assssssss. | |
| So keep your eyes on the prize on the distant horizon. | |
| Be wary of the wind and the bad moon rising. | |
| Knowing in your going, somehow, some way, that you'll out-run your shadow...yes you will, one fine day. ' | |
| Cause you're traveling faster than the speed of regret. | |
| What I was born knowing | |
| I was bound to forget. | |
| In the blindness of being what | |
| I was born seeing | |
| I was just plain bound to forget, yes | |
| I was just plain bound to forget. |
| zuò cí : White | |
| Fools wind blowing up brown bible verses. | |
| Dust storm of memory. | |
| Truck stop reverie. 3 | |
| AM in my home town, not a soul stirring around. | |
| Mr. Trucker | |
| Man, don' t slow down in this little town. ' | |
| Cause I' m traveling faster than the speed of regret. | |
| What I was born knowing | |
| I was bound to forget. | |
| In the blindness of being, what | |
| I was born seeing | |
| I was just plain bound to forget. | |
| Yes, I was just plain bound to forget. | |
| Now my tank run dry two hours out of | |
| Tucson by three little crosses on the side of the highway. | |
| Still as a box full of busted watches, | |
| I settle debts with the dead and keep right on... | |
| I keep on keeping on. | |
| Pedal to the metal on the wide open highway. | |
| Crisscross the high plains of brighteyed solitude, | |
| I tailgate a truckload of tabula rasa...' til my mind go clearer than the highway west of | |
| El Paso. Guess | |
| I' m traveling faster than the speed of regret. | |
| What I was born knowing | |
| I was bound to forget. | |
| In the blindness of being what | |
| I was born seeing, | |
| I was just plain bound to forget. | |
| Yes I was just plain bound to forget. | |
| Now, 24 7 in the end my friend, gotta go at | |
| God' s speed, no never relent, lest the soulsucking, sneakydeaky, bellyaching past like a ssssnake in the grasssssssss ssssstrike and bury your assssssss. | |
| So keep your eyes on the prize on the distant horizon. | |
| Be wary of the wind and the bad moon rising. | |
| Knowing in your going, somehow, some way, that you' ll outrun your shadow... yes you will, one fine day. ' | |
| Cause you' re traveling faster than the speed of regret. | |
| What I was born knowing | |
| I was bound to forget. | |
| In the blindness of being what | |
| I was born seeing | |
| I was just plain bound to forget, yes | |
| I was just plain bound to forget. |