Autumn Perspective Lyrics
| Song | Autumn Perspective |
| Artist | Vanessa Daou |
| Album | Zipless |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| [00:00.000] | 作曲 : Erica Jong/Vanessa Daou |
| [00:32.434] | Now, moving in, cartons on the floor |
| [00:36.885] | The radio playing to bare walls |
| [00:40.961] | Picture hooks left stranded |
| [00:45.185] | In the unsoiled squares where paintings were |
| [00:49.034] | And something reminding us |
| [00:53.078] | This is like all other moving days; |
| [00:56.752] | Finding the dirty ends of someone else's life |
| [01:01.338] | Hair fallen in the sink, a peach pit |
| [01:07.563] | And burned-out matches in the corner; |
| [01:13.571] | Things not preserved, yet never swept away |
| [01:18.078] | Like fragments of disturbing dreams |
| [01:22.148] | We stumble on all day |
| [01:29.463] | In ordering our lives, we will discard them |
| [01:34.289] | Scrub clean the floorboards of this our home |
| [01:42.358] | Lest refuse from the lives we did not lead |
| [01:46.464] | Become, in some strange, frightening way, our own |
| [01:54.522] | And we have plans that will not tolerate our fears |
| [01:59.553] | A year laid out like rooms in a new house |
| [02:07.052] | The dusty wine glasses rinsed off |
| [02:11.247] | The vases filled, and bookshelves sagging with heavy winter books |
| [02:19.770] | Seeing the room always as it will be |
| [02:23.196] | We are content to dust and wait |
| [02:27.427] | We will return here from the dark and silent streets |
| [02:32.378] | Arms full of books and food |
| [02:35.354] | Anxious as we always are in winter |
| [02:39.559] | And looking for the Good Life we have made |
| [02:43.806] | I see myself then: tense, solemn |
| [02:50.112] | In high-heeled shoes that pinch |
| [02:54.067] | Not basking in the light of goals fulfilled |
| [02:58.099] | But looking back to now and seeing |
| [03:02.290] | A lazy, sunburned, sandaled girl |
| [03:08.451] | In a bare room, full of promise |
| [03:12.391] | And feeling envious |
| [03:16.601] | Now we plan, postponing |
| [03:20.600] | Pushing our lives forward into the future |
| [03:24.880] | As if, when the room contains us and all our treasured junk |
| [03:32.479] | We will have filled whatever gap it is that makes us wander |
| [03:38.379] | Discontented from ourselves |
| [03:42.096] | The room will not change: |
| [03:45.163] | A rug, or armchair, or new coat of paint won't make much difference; |
| [03:52.939] | Our eyes are fickle |
| [03:56.562] | But we remain the same beneath our suntans |
| [04:01.698] | Pale, frightened |
| [04:06.001] | Dreaming ourselves backward and forward in time |
| [04:10.230] | Dreaming our dreaming selves |
| [04:14.239] | I look forward and see myself look back |
| [00:00.000] | zuo qu : Erica Jong Vanessa Daou |
| [00:32.434] | Now, moving in, cartons on the floor |
| [00:36.885] | The radio playing to bare walls |
| [00:40.961] | Picture hooks left stranded |
| [00:45.185] | In the unsoiled squares where paintings were |
| [00:49.034] | And something reminding us |
| [00:53.078] | This is like all other moving days |
| [00:56.752] | Finding the dirty ends of someone else' s life |
| [01:01.338] | Hair fallen in the sink, a peach pit |
| [01:07.563] | And burnedout matches in the corner |
| [01:13.571] | Things not preserved, yet never swept away |
| [01:18.078] | Like fragments of disturbing dreams |
| [01:22.148] | We stumble on all day |
| [01:29.463] | In ordering our lives, we will discard them |
| [01:34.289] | Scrub clean the floorboards of this our home |
| [01:42.358] | Lest refuse from the lives we did not lead |
| [01:46.464] | Become, in some strange, frightening way, our own |
| [01:54.522] | And we have plans that will not tolerate our fears |
| [01:59.553] | A year laid out like rooms in a new house |
| [02:07.052] | The dusty wine glasses rinsed off |
| [02:11.247] | The vases filled, and bookshelves sagging with heavy winter books |
| [02:19.770] | Seeing the room always as it will be |
| [02:23.196] | We are content to dust and wait |
| [02:27.427] | We will return here from the dark and silent streets |
| [02:32.378] | Arms full of books and food |
| [02:35.354] | Anxious as we always are in winter |
| [02:39.559] | And looking for the Good Life we have made |
| [02:43.806] | I see myself then: tense, solemn |
| [02:50.112] | In highheeled shoes that pinch |
| [02:54.067] | Not basking in the light of goals fulfilled |
| [02:58.099] | But looking back to now and seeing |
| [03:02.290] | A lazy, sunburned, sandaled girl |
| [03:08.451] | In a bare room, full of promise |
| [03:12.391] | And feeling envious |
| [03:16.601] | Now we plan, postponing |
| [03:20.600] | Pushing our lives forward into the future |
| [03:24.880] | As if, when the room contains us and all our treasured junk |
| [03:32.479] | We will have filled whatever gap it is that makes us wander |
| [03:38.379] | Discontented from ourselves |
| [03:42.096] | The room will not change: |
| [03:45.163] | A rug, or armchair, or new coat of paint won' t make much difference |
| [03:52.939] | Our eyes are fickle |
| [03:56.562] | But we remain the same beneath our suntans |
| [04:01.698] | Pale, frightened |
| [04:06.001] | Dreaming ourselves backward and forward in time |
| [04:10.230] | Dreaming our dreaming selves |
| [04:14.239] | I look forward and see myself look back |
| [00:00.000] | zuò qǔ : Erica Jong Vanessa Daou |
| [00:32.434] | Now, moving in, cartons on the floor |
| [00:36.885] | The radio playing to bare walls |
| [00:40.961] | Picture hooks left stranded |
| [00:45.185] | In the unsoiled squares where paintings were |
| [00:49.034] | And something reminding us |
| [00:53.078] | This is like all other moving days |
| [00:56.752] | Finding the dirty ends of someone else' s life |
| [01:01.338] | Hair fallen in the sink, a peach pit |
| [01:07.563] | And burnedout matches in the corner |
| [01:13.571] | Things not preserved, yet never swept away |
| [01:18.078] | Like fragments of disturbing dreams |
| [01:22.148] | We stumble on all day |
| [01:29.463] | In ordering our lives, we will discard them |
| [01:34.289] | Scrub clean the floorboards of this our home |
| [01:42.358] | Lest refuse from the lives we did not lead |
| [01:46.464] | Become, in some strange, frightening way, our own |
| [01:54.522] | And we have plans that will not tolerate our fears |
| [01:59.553] | A year laid out like rooms in a new house |
| [02:07.052] | The dusty wine glasses rinsed off |
| [02:11.247] | The vases filled, and bookshelves sagging with heavy winter books |
| [02:19.770] | Seeing the room always as it will be |
| [02:23.196] | We are content to dust and wait |
| [02:27.427] | We will return here from the dark and silent streets |
| [02:32.378] | Arms full of books and food |
| [02:35.354] | Anxious as we always are in winter |
| [02:39.559] | And looking for the Good Life we have made |
| [02:43.806] | I see myself then: tense, solemn |
| [02:50.112] | In highheeled shoes that pinch |
| [02:54.067] | Not basking in the light of goals fulfilled |
| [02:58.099] | But looking back to now and seeing |
| [03:02.290] | A lazy, sunburned, sandaled girl |
| [03:08.451] | In a bare room, full of promise |
| [03:12.391] | And feeling envious |
| [03:16.601] | Now we plan, postponing |
| [03:20.600] | Pushing our lives forward into the future |
| [03:24.880] | As if, when the room contains us and all our treasured junk |
| [03:32.479] | We will have filled whatever gap it is that makes us wander |
| [03:38.379] | Discontented from ourselves |
| [03:42.096] | The room will not change: |
| [03:45.163] | A rug, or armchair, or new coat of paint won' t make much difference |
| [03:52.939] | Our eyes are fickle |
| [03:56.562] | But we remain the same beneath our suntans |
| [04:01.698] | Pale, frightened |
| [04:06.001] | Dreaming ourselves backward and forward in time |
| [04:10.230] | Dreaming our dreaming selves |
| [04:14.239] | I look forward and see myself look back |
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