Song | Slow Down At The Castle |
Artist | Saint Etienne |
Album | Tales From Turnpike House |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作词 : Stanley, Wiggs | |
Slow down at the castle | |
Things to straighten in her head | |
And she knows it's not a castle | |
But that's what they've always said | |
Shaded by the tower | |
As she clambers to her seat | |
With the ash of last night's party | |
Clinging grimly to her feet | |
Not for the first time | |
She's made her bed | |
Now she leaves that all behind | |
And turns her mind to playful things instead | |
Days spent making stories | |
For the faces that pass by | |
From the lonely tea shop owner | |
To the misbehaving wife | |
Now they're growing ever wilder | |
As the people start to go | |
Now she dreams that there's assassins | |
Hiding in the woods below | |
Not for the first time | |
She's made her bed | |
Now she leaves that all behind | |
And turns her mind to playful things instead | |
And she knows this must end | |
As the long shadows start to blend | |
She must be on her way |
zuo ci : Stanley, Wiggs | |
Slow down at the castle | |
Things to straighten in her head | |
And she knows it' s not a castle | |
But that' s what they' ve always said | |
Shaded by the tower | |
As she clambers to her seat | |
With the ash of last night' s party | |
Clinging grimly to her feet | |
Not for the first time | |
She' s made her bed | |
Now she leaves that all behind | |
And turns her mind to playful things instead | |
Days spent making stories | |
For the faces that pass by | |
From the lonely tea shop owner | |
To the misbehaving wife | |
Now they' re growing ever wilder | |
As the people start to go | |
Now she dreams that there' s assassins | |
Hiding in the woods below | |
Not for the first time | |
She' s made her bed | |
Now she leaves that all behind | |
And turns her mind to playful things instead | |
And she knows this must end | |
As the long shadows start to blend | |
She must be on her way |
zuò cí : Stanley, Wiggs | |
Slow down at the castle | |
Things to straighten in her head | |
And she knows it' s not a castle | |
But that' s what they' ve always said | |
Shaded by the tower | |
As she clambers to her seat | |
With the ash of last night' s party | |
Clinging grimly to her feet | |
Not for the first time | |
She' s made her bed | |
Now she leaves that all behind | |
And turns her mind to playful things instead | |
Days spent making stories | |
For the faces that pass by | |
From the lonely tea shop owner | |
To the misbehaving wife | |
Now they' re growing ever wilder | |
As the people start to go | |
Now she dreams that there' s assassins | |
Hiding in the woods below | |
Not for the first time | |
She' s made her bed | |
Now she leaves that all behind | |
And turns her mind to playful things instead | |
And she knows this must end | |
As the long shadows start to blend | |
She must be on her way |