Song | Tomorrow's Just Too Late |
Artist | Kevin Devine |
Album | Brother's Blood |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : Devine | |
you drag your tigers paw across | |
your chapped & cracking lips | |
and open up a crimson slur | |
you spread each time you kiss | |
and the broken boy you bargin with | |
to turn back to the man | |
that you fell in love with once | |
but never saw again | |
is he in there? | |
do you think he drowned to death? | |
well it's his decision to show his face again | |
You grind your tired teeth | |
& curse the day that you were born | |
to a sunken line of irish wives a million miles long | |
devoted to the suffering they're certain they deserve | |
a husband, a cross to bare, | |
worry lines & a silver string of hair | |
come too early, come to steal your sainted youth. | |
but it's your decision to stay or else to move | |
& i'm not a man of faith, no gospel oak for me | |
but you wear a crucifix to broadcast your beliefs | |
and the god i've read about can't go where he's not asked to go | |
so you've got a choice to make | |
Shut him out, save yourself or sit and wait. | |
but you're waiting on a man who will not move. | |
so you must move for him and do what he can't do | |
Cause it's worth it, it's the one life you can't change | |
and i'm sorry sister but it has to end this way | |
Yeah, it's scary sister, tomorrow's just too late. | |
so stand up sister, | |
there's an albatrose to shake. |
zuo qu : Devine | |
you drag your tigers paw across | |
your chapped cracking lips | |
and open up a crimson slur | |
you spread each time you kiss | |
and the broken boy you bargin with | |
to turn back to the man | |
that you fell in love with once | |
but never saw again | |
is he in there? | |
do you think he drowned to death? | |
well it' s his decision to show his face again | |
You grind your tired teeth | |
curse the day that you were born | |
to a sunken line of irish wives a million miles long | |
devoted to the suffering they' re certain they deserve | |
a husband, a cross to bare, | |
worry lines a silver string of hair | |
come too early, come to steal your sainted youth. | |
but it' s your decision to stay or else to move | |
i' m not a man of faith, no gospel oak for me | |
but you wear a crucifix to broadcast your beliefs | |
and the god i' ve read about can' t go where he' s not asked to go | |
so you' ve got a choice to make | |
Shut him out, save yourself or sit and wait. | |
but you' re waiting on a man who will not move. | |
so you must move for him and do what he can' t do | |
Cause it' s worth it, it' s the one life you can' t change | |
and i' m sorry sister but it has to end this way | |
Yeah, it' s scary sister, tomorrow' s just too late. | |
so stand up sister, | |
there' s an albatrose to shake. |
zuò qǔ : Devine | |
you drag your tigers paw across | |
your chapped cracking lips | |
and open up a crimson slur | |
you spread each time you kiss | |
and the broken boy you bargin with | |
to turn back to the man | |
that you fell in love with once | |
but never saw again | |
is he in there? | |
do you think he drowned to death? | |
well it' s his decision to show his face again | |
You grind your tired teeth | |
curse the day that you were born | |
to a sunken line of irish wives a million miles long | |
devoted to the suffering they' re certain they deserve | |
a husband, a cross to bare, | |
worry lines a silver string of hair | |
come too early, come to steal your sainted youth. | |
but it' s your decision to stay or else to move | |
i' m not a man of faith, no gospel oak for me | |
but you wear a crucifix to broadcast your beliefs | |
and the god i' ve read about can' t go where he' s not asked to go | |
so you' ve got a choice to make | |
Shut him out, save yourself or sit and wait. | |
but you' re waiting on a man who will not move. | |
so you must move for him and do what he can' t do | |
Cause it' s worth it, it' s the one life you can' t change | |
and i' m sorry sister but it has to end this way | |
Yeah, it' s scary sister, tomorrow' s just too late. | |
so stand up sister, | |
there' s an albatrose to shake. |