Song | Fields of France |
Artist | Al Stewart |
Album | Rhymes in Rooms |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作词 : Stewart | |
His flying jacket still has her perfume | |
Memories of the night | |
Play across his mind | |
High above the fields of France | |
A single biplane in a clear blue sky | |
1917, no enemy was seen | |
High above the fields of France | |
Oh she looks | |
But there's nothing to see | |
Still she looks | |
Saying come back to me | |
He tells her just remember me this way | |
Fore here am I more true | |
Than anything I do | |
High above the fields of France | |
Oh she looks | |
Though he'll never come back | |
And the letter that came | |
Was bordered in black | |
She'll find somebody else | |
But not forget | |
Leaving her regrets | |
Like vapour trails of jets | |
High above the fields of France |
zuo ci : Stewart | |
His flying jacket still has her perfume | |
Memories of the night | |
Play across his mind | |
High above the fields of France | |
A single biplane in a clear blue sky | |
1917, no enemy was seen | |
High above the fields of France | |
Oh she looks | |
But there' s nothing to see | |
Still she looks | |
Saying come back to me | |
He tells her just remember me this way | |
Fore here am I more true | |
Than anything I do | |
High above the fields of France | |
Oh she looks | |
Though he' ll never come back | |
And the letter that came | |
Was bordered in black | |
She' ll find somebody else | |
But not forget | |
Leaving her regrets | |
Like vapour trails of jets | |
High above the fields of France |
zuò cí : Stewart | |
His flying jacket still has her perfume | |
Memories of the night | |
Play across his mind | |
High above the fields of France | |
A single biplane in a clear blue sky | |
1917, no enemy was seen | |
High above the fields of France | |
Oh she looks | |
But there' s nothing to see | |
Still she looks | |
Saying come back to me | |
He tells her just remember me this way | |
Fore here am I more true | |
Than anything I do | |
High above the fields of France | |
Oh she looks | |
Though he' ll never come back | |
And the letter that came | |
Was bordered in black | |
She' ll find somebody else | |
But not forget | |
Leaving her regrets | |
Like vapour trails of jets | |
High above the fields of France |