| Song | The Anvil |
| Artist | Kelly Joe Phelps |
| Album | Tunesmith Retrofit |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Phelps | |
| There are some that blindly and happily plow | |
| While the tractor screams "Feed me some oil" | |
| The scraping of gears and the gnashing of teeth | |
| Fall softly on full ahead ears | |
| A frown may give away something right | |
| A smile can hide crooked affairs | |
| The sun on the back rings a work man's guffaw | |
| It's all in the bag with coins | |
| Call me tomorrow, then come over here | |
| See if we can figure this out | |
| There in an eye winking curiously | |
| By the campground, the bedside night stand | |
| My leg bones feel weary yet walk on they will | |
| Holding for wheels and gravy | |
| on a plate full of nothing but shaking my head | |
| with a side bowl of nothing to do | |
| Could be a time thing, could be a ruse | |
| And I will concede to confusion | |
| Ideas spin 'round my crazy old head | |
| Hard as (and light as) an anvil | |
| The liver will wither and wax with the tide | |
| Fine, if I can find the answer | |
| To a question I've never been asked before | |
| I hear time and time again |
| zuo ci : Phelps | |
| There are some that blindly and happily plow | |
| While the tractor screams " Feed me some oil" | |
| The scraping of gears and the gnashing of teeth | |
| Fall softly on full ahead ears | |
| A frown may give away something right | |
| A smile can hide crooked affairs | |
| The sun on the back rings a work man' s guffaw | |
| It' s all in the bag with coins | |
| Call me tomorrow, then come over here | |
| See if we can figure this out | |
| There in an eye winking curiously | |
| By the campground, the bedside night stand | |
| My leg bones feel weary yet walk on they will | |
| Holding for wheels and gravy | |
| on a plate full of nothing but shaking my head | |
| with a side bowl of nothing to do | |
| Could be a time thing, could be a ruse | |
| And I will concede to confusion | |
| Ideas spin ' round my crazy old head | |
| Hard as and light as an anvil | |
| The liver will wither and wax with the tide | |
| Fine, if I can find the answer | |
| To a question I' ve never been asked before | |
| I hear time and time again |
| zuò cí : Phelps | |
| There are some that blindly and happily plow | |
| While the tractor screams " Feed me some oil" | |
| The scraping of gears and the gnashing of teeth | |
| Fall softly on full ahead ears | |
| A frown may give away something right | |
| A smile can hide crooked affairs | |
| The sun on the back rings a work man' s guffaw | |
| It' s all in the bag with coins | |
| Call me tomorrow, then come over here | |
| See if we can figure this out | |
| There in an eye winking curiously | |
| By the campground, the bedside night stand | |
| My leg bones feel weary yet walk on they will | |
| Holding for wheels and gravy | |
| on a plate full of nothing but shaking my head | |
| with a side bowl of nothing to do | |
| Could be a time thing, could be a ruse | |
| And I will concede to confusion | |
| Ideas spin ' round my crazy old head | |
| Hard as and light as an anvil | |
| The liver will wither and wax with the tide | |
| Fine, if I can find the answer | |
| To a question I' ve never been asked before | |
| I hear time and time again |