Song | First Recollection |
Artist | Cowboy Junkies |
Album | Pale Sun Crescent Moon |
作曲 : Timmins | |
My first recollection, a day in | |
DecemberBlack iron steam engine covered in ice | |
Like some | |
Cambrian monster | |
Moaning and snorting | |
Nothing was ever going to beat that beast | |
In a fair fight | |
I've sat and watched the woodpiles | |
Grow through the summer | |
Now I'm sittin', smellin' summer burn through the fall | |
Winter's coming on, days gettin' dreary | |
And I'm thinkin' this is the season | |
Where I leave you all | |
I've heard a man in a crisis | |
Falls back on what he knows best | |
A murderer to murder, a thief to theft | |
And I don't want you to think | |
That this is some kind of deathbed confession | |
Umm, but run is what | |
I did when put to the test | |
My first recollection is a day in | |
NovemberSeven forty seven tracin' lines through the sky | |
Like some old gypsy curse | |
Silently praying | |
Upon the dreams of those | |
Who jealously watch life passing by | |
I've sat and watched my troubles | |
Pile through the summer | |
Now I'm sitting, hearing my youngest cry down the hall | |
Winter's coming on, days getting dreary | |
And I'm thinking this is the season | |
That I leave you all | |
I've heard that the son must bear | |
The burdens of the father | |
But it's the daughter that is left to clean up the mess | |
And I don't want you to think | |
That I'm asking for absolution | |
Umm, but run is what | |
I did when put to the test |
zuò qǔ : Timmins | |
My first recollection, a day in | |
DecemberBlack iron steam engine covered in ice | |
Like some | |
Cambrian monster | |
Moaning and snorting | |
Nothing was ever going to beat that beast | |
In a fair fight | |
I' ve sat and watched the woodpiles | |
Grow through the summer | |
Now I' m sittin', smellin' summer burn through the fall | |
Winter' s coming on, days gettin' dreary | |
And I' m thinkin' this is the season | |
Where I leave you all | |
I' ve heard a man in a crisis | |
Falls back on what he knows best | |
A murderer to murder, a thief to theft | |
And I don' t want you to think | |
That this is some kind of deathbed confession | |
Umm, but run is what | |
I did when put to the test | |
My first recollection is a day in | |
NovemberSeven forty seven tracin' lines through the sky | |
Like some old gypsy curse | |
Silently praying | |
Upon the dreams of those | |
Who jealously watch life passing by | |
I' ve sat and watched my troubles | |
Pile through the summer | |
Now I' m sitting, hearing my youngest cry down the hall | |
Winter' s coming on, days getting dreary | |
And I' m thinking this is the season | |
That I leave you all | |
I' ve heard that the son must bear | |
The burdens of the father | |
But it' s the daughter that is left to clean up the mess | |
And I don' t want you to think | |
That I' m asking for absolution | |
Umm, but run is what | |
I did when put to the test |