Song | Yr Husband |
Artist | Kevin Devine |
Album | Brother's Blood |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : Devine | |
Your husband, | |
He drinks like a writer, | |
But he writes like a banker, | |
I hope his pens all run dry. | |
You watch him from your cave in the corner, | |
Full moon eyes flame and flicker, | |
The wild way that I like. | |
From my part, | |
I pretend I don't notice | |
Dumb friend you're a poet, | |
And I could do this all night. | |
And I'll stay like that, | |
Hands locked in my lap, | |
What I want jailed up in my mind, | |
Until I slide to sleep | |
Where you're waitin' for me, | |
And we do what we want to, | |
And shut ourselves off for the night. | |
Til morning barrels in like a brides maid, | |
Drunk and desperate for her day, | |
Drags me out, picks a fight. | |
And I see I'm alone here | |
Picture frames and a hot plate | |
Stubborn sun spites the hallways | |
Paint chips blink yellow white. | |
And I'm stretching, in the act of forgetting, | |
Bear teeth and blood letting, | |
Signals crossed half my life. | |
And the local grown | |
Sees your notes towards my home, | |
Dreaming fits as we crawl underground, | |
And you're shedding skin, | |
So I keep what I can. | |
Yeah I fill up my pockets, | |
And stuff all that's left in my mouth. | |
Now you are a part of me, | |
For as long as I sleep. | |
I could trick myself into a trance, | |
Where were as firm as facts, | |
And I don't give you back | |
Every morning the sun comes to shuttle you back to your man. |
zuo qu : Devine | |
Your husband, | |
He drinks like a writer, | |
But he writes like a banker, | |
I hope his pens all run dry. | |
You watch him from your cave in the corner, | |
Full moon eyes flame and flicker, | |
The wild way that I like. | |
From my part, | |
I pretend I don' t notice | |
Dumb friend you' re a poet, | |
And I could do this all night. | |
And I' ll stay like that, | |
Hands locked in my lap, | |
What I want jailed up in my mind, | |
Until I slide to sleep | |
Where you' re waitin' for me, | |
And we do what we want to, | |
And shut ourselves off for the night. | |
Til morning barrels in like a brides maid, | |
Drunk and desperate for her day, | |
Drags me out, picks a fight. | |
And I see I' m alone here | |
Picture frames and a hot plate | |
Stubborn sun spites the hallways | |
Paint chips blink yellow white. | |
And I' m stretching, in the act of forgetting, | |
Bear teeth and blood letting, | |
Signals crossed half my life. | |
And the local grown | |
Sees your notes towards my home, | |
Dreaming fits as we crawl underground, | |
And you' re shedding skin, | |
So I keep what I can. | |
Yeah I fill up my pockets, | |
And stuff all that' s left in my mouth. | |
Now you are a part of me, | |
For as long as I sleep. | |
I could trick myself into a trance, | |
Where were as firm as facts, | |
And I don' t give you back | |
Every morning the sun comes to shuttle you back to your man. |
zuò qǔ : Devine | |
Your husband, | |
He drinks like a writer, | |
But he writes like a banker, | |
I hope his pens all run dry. | |
You watch him from your cave in the corner, | |
Full moon eyes flame and flicker, | |
The wild way that I like. | |
From my part, | |
I pretend I don' t notice | |
Dumb friend you' re a poet, | |
And I could do this all night. | |
And I' ll stay like that, | |
Hands locked in my lap, | |
What I want jailed up in my mind, | |
Until I slide to sleep | |
Where you' re waitin' for me, | |
And we do what we want to, | |
And shut ourselves off for the night. | |
Til morning barrels in like a brides maid, | |
Drunk and desperate for her day, | |
Drags me out, picks a fight. | |
And I see I' m alone here | |
Picture frames and a hot plate | |
Stubborn sun spites the hallways | |
Paint chips blink yellow white. | |
And I' m stretching, in the act of forgetting, | |
Bear teeth and blood letting, | |
Signals crossed half my life. | |
And the local grown | |
Sees your notes towards my home, | |
Dreaming fits as we crawl underground, | |
And you' re shedding skin, | |
So I keep what I can. | |
Yeah I fill up my pockets, | |
And stuff all that' s left in my mouth. | |
Now you are a part of me, | |
For as long as I sleep. | |
I could trick myself into a trance, | |
Where were as firm as facts, | |
And I don' t give you back | |
Every morning the sun comes to shuttle you back to your man. |