Song | What The Butler Saw |
Artist | Squeeze |
Album | The Squeeze Story |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : Glenn Tilbrook & Chris Difford | |
(Difford/Tilbrook) | |
WARNING: These lyrics are unconfirmed and may be inaccurate. | |
They represent the best attempt at deciphering the song we have yet to see. | |
Pacing through the flickering light | |
A velvet patch upon his eye | |
His pacing creaks the floorboards loose | |
As he tailors his thoughts for the truth around truths | |
But his butler keeps eyes through a hole in the door | |
What the butler don't see ain't a lot that's for sure | |
Francesca lays across the couch | |
They fight with words from mouth to mouth | |
And then with handfuls of her flesh | |
See how the zipper broke off of her dress | |
Strangling her neck with his hands in her gloves | |
The port and the brandy mix cocktails of love | |
The porchlight, the torchlight | |
The frosted morning lawn | |
The cloak of daylight has finally been drawn | |
On the tale of what the butler saw | |
He kept his world all to himself | |
And locked it tight inside his belt | |
But she preferred his belt undone | |
She bathed in his fortune but never his fun | |
He cracked on a mixture of opera and drink | |
The butler still fetches and carries for him | |
The butler dragged down to the lake | |
Francesca's body in a cape | |
No private eye was gonna trace this | |
The old man was shaking, his marbles were missed | |
The shadows and footprints and flickering lights | |
The butler's up late with a cold in his eye | |
The porchlight the torchlight the frosted morning lawn | |
The cloak of daylight has finally been drawn | |
On the tale of what the butler saw |
zuo qu : Glenn Tilbrook Chris Difford | |
Difford Tilbrook | |
WARNING: These lyrics are unconfirmed and may be inaccurate. | |
They represent the best attempt at deciphering the song we have yet to see. | |
Pacing through the flickering light | |
A velvet patch upon his eye | |
His pacing creaks the floorboards loose | |
As he tailors his thoughts for the truth around truths | |
But his butler keeps eyes through a hole in the door | |
What the butler don' t see ain' t a lot that' s for sure | |
Francesca lays across the couch | |
They fight with words from mouth to mouth | |
And then with handfuls of her flesh | |
See how the zipper broke off of her dress | |
Strangling her neck with his hands in her gloves | |
The port and the brandy mix cocktails of love | |
The porchlight, the torchlight | |
The frosted morning lawn | |
The cloak of daylight has finally been drawn | |
On the tale of what the butler saw | |
He kept his world all to himself | |
And locked it tight inside his belt | |
But she preferred his belt undone | |
She bathed in his fortune but never his fun | |
He cracked on a mixture of opera and drink | |
The butler still fetches and carries for him | |
The butler dragged down to the lake | |
Francesca' s body in a cape | |
No private eye was gonna trace this | |
The old man was shaking, his marbles were missed | |
The shadows and footprints and flickering lights | |
The butler' s up late with a cold in his eye | |
The porchlight the torchlight the frosted morning lawn | |
The cloak of daylight has finally been drawn | |
On the tale of what the butler saw |
zuò qǔ : Glenn Tilbrook Chris Difford | |
Difford Tilbrook | |
WARNING: These lyrics are unconfirmed and may be inaccurate. | |
They represent the best attempt at deciphering the song we have yet to see. | |
Pacing through the flickering light | |
A velvet patch upon his eye | |
His pacing creaks the floorboards loose | |
As he tailors his thoughts for the truth around truths | |
But his butler keeps eyes through a hole in the door | |
What the butler don' t see ain' t a lot that' s for sure | |
Francesca lays across the couch | |
They fight with words from mouth to mouth | |
And then with handfuls of her flesh | |
See how the zipper broke off of her dress | |
Strangling her neck with his hands in her gloves | |
The port and the brandy mix cocktails of love | |
The porchlight, the torchlight | |
The frosted morning lawn | |
The cloak of daylight has finally been drawn | |
On the tale of what the butler saw | |
He kept his world all to himself | |
And locked it tight inside his belt | |
But she preferred his belt undone | |
She bathed in his fortune but never his fun | |
He cracked on a mixture of opera and drink | |
The butler still fetches and carries for him | |
The butler dragged down to the lake | |
Francesca' s body in a cape | |
No private eye was gonna trace this | |
The old man was shaking, his marbles were missed | |
The shadows and footprints and flickering lights | |
The butler' s up late with a cold in his eye | |
The porchlight the torchlight the frosted morning lawn | |
The cloak of daylight has finally been drawn | |
On the tale of what the butler saw |