4 Hypnagogue 4 - Live Lyrics

	作词 : Current Ninety Three
	I caught a glimpse of your eyes
	Last night in a restless dream
	Awaking out of green field blue seas stars
	Your eyes arose like the spectres of flowers
	I turned out the light and clicked fast the door
	The book fell
	I had so many thoughts, so many signs
	I made sense of nothing at all
	This green dream was unreal; the crickets sing
	Across deserts and plains the lost feast
	Whose shimmering teeth are marking the passing of time
	A cloud falls; a bird shivers and sings, its beak stained with night
	Pure gold: the dark is waiting, the darkness is hungry,
	The deep is angry, and the telephone rings on
	A film screen descends, and the silent movies play
	Buster Keaton falls and rots, as Big Ben sings and boils
	On an endless swamp; the silence is treacle thick
	And calls us to prayer: paint God with your blood
	And fill haunted women with knives and kites
	And gauges and valves and make them weep long hyms
	To gaseous and clumsy mortality whilst fish descend
	Remember remember the burning ember
	Embedded in your chest: the soul watches TV
	And gorges itself on blood and popcorn
	Now that's what I call decay decline and hard times
	Hard times, very hard times, Mr. Lindsay
	Hard times and winter so cruel: you have stopped my watch
	At the stroke of three and call for the police
	But there's a time for tea and a time for expiring
	And the notice to quit is in the post:
	And you should know: your
	Little cow and calf is going to die

	zuo ci : Current Ninety Three
	I caught a glimpse of your eyes
	Last night in a restless dream
	Awaking out of green field blue seas stars
	Your eyes arose like the spectres of flowers
	I turned out the light and clicked fast the door
	The book fell
	I had so many thoughts, so many signs
	I made sense of nothing at all
	This green dream was unreal the crickets sing
	Across deserts and plains the lost feast
	Whose shimmering teeth are marking the passing of time
	A cloud falls a bird shivers and sings, its beak stained with night
	Pure gold: the dark is waiting, the darkness is hungry,
	The deep is angry, and the telephone rings on
	A film screen descends, and the silent movies play
	Buster Keaton falls and rots, as Big Ben sings and boils
	On an endless swamp the silence is treacle thick
	And calls us to prayer: paint God with your blood
	And fill haunted women with knives and kites
	And gauges and valves and make them weep long hyms
	To gaseous and clumsy mortality whilst fish descend
	Remember remember the burning ember
	Embedded in your chest: the soul watches TV
	And gorges itself on blood and popcorn
	Now that' s what I call decay decline and hard times
	Hard times, very hard times, Mr. Lindsay
	Hard times and winter so cruel: you have stopped my watch
	At the stroke of three and call for the police
	But there' s a time for tea and a time for expiring
	And the notice to quit is in the post:
	And you should know: your
	Little cow and calf is going to die

	zuò cí : Current Ninety Three
	I caught a glimpse of your eyes
	Last night in a restless dream
	Awaking out of green field blue seas stars
	Your eyes arose like the spectres of flowers
	I turned out the light and clicked fast the door
	The book fell
	I had so many thoughts, so many signs
	I made sense of nothing at all
	This green dream was unreal the crickets sing
	Across deserts and plains the lost feast
	Whose shimmering teeth are marking the passing of time
	A cloud falls a bird shivers and sings, its beak stained with night
	Pure gold: the dark is waiting, the darkness is hungry,
	The deep is angry, and the telephone rings on
	A film screen descends, and the silent movies play
	Buster Keaton falls and rots, as Big Ben sings and boils
	On an endless swamp the silence is treacle thick
	And calls us to prayer: paint God with your blood
	And fill haunted women with knives and kites
	And gauges and valves and make them weep long hyms
	To gaseous and clumsy mortality whilst fish descend
	Remember remember the burning ember
	Embedded in your chest: the soul watches TV
	And gorges itself on blood and popcorn
	Now that' s what I call decay decline and hard times
	Hard times, very hard times, Mr. Lindsay
	Hard times and winter so cruel: you have stopped my watch
	At the stroke of three and call for the police
	But there' s a time for tea and a time for expiring
	And the notice to quit is in the post:
	And you should know: your
	Little cow and calf is going to die

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