Song | Virus Meadow |
Artist | And Also the Trees |
Album | Virus Meadow |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
作曲 : Burrows, Havas, Jones | |
Rattled chime, slow ringing echo | |
Roll around in virus meadow | |
Suck enchanted nightshade twine | |
Hear the bells beneath us chime | |
Sinking sermon, priest head murmurs | |
Holy words across the meadows | |
Kissed the plagues' black rolling hand | |
Through his lips the virus sang | |
And the rooks, they seemed to follow him | |
Wherever he goes | |
Flapping in the flat sky | |
Shrieking in the spire | |
Hanging from the lead sky | |
Dangling from the sun | |
The rooks, they seemed to follow him | |
Wherever he goes | |
Nodding thistle, english sun dew | |
Swansneck woman, child-bed meadow | |
Aching shoulders sink and grow | |
As the bells from ditches toll | |
And the smeared skin wrapped limbs | |
Of the night brothers | |
Struggling.... crawling | |
Through the empty crack of morning | |
Of the night brothers... | |
Of the night brothers.... |
zuo qu : Burrows, Havas, Jones | |
Rattled chime, slow ringing echo | |
Roll around in virus meadow | |
Suck enchanted nightshade twine | |
Hear the bells beneath us chime | |
Sinking sermon, priest head murmurs | |
Holy words across the meadows | |
Kissed the plagues' black rolling hand | |
Through his lips the virus sang | |
And the rooks, they seemed to follow him | |
Wherever he goes | |
Flapping in the flat sky | |
Shrieking in the spire | |
Hanging from the lead sky | |
Dangling from the sun | |
The rooks, they seemed to follow him | |
Wherever he goes | |
Nodding thistle, english sun dew | |
Swansneck woman, childbed meadow | |
Aching shoulders sink and grow | |
As the bells from ditches toll | |
And the smeared skin wrapped limbs | |
Of the night brothers | |
Struggling.... crawling | |
Through the empty crack of morning | |
Of the night brothers... | |
Of the night brothers.... |
zuò qǔ : Burrows, Havas, Jones | |
Rattled chime, slow ringing echo | |
Roll around in virus meadow | |
Suck enchanted nightshade twine | |
Hear the bells beneath us chime | |
Sinking sermon, priest head murmurs | |
Holy words across the meadows | |
Kissed the plagues' black rolling hand | |
Through his lips the virus sang | |
And the rooks, they seemed to follow him | |
Wherever he goes | |
Flapping in the flat sky | |
Shrieking in the spire | |
Hanging from the lead sky | |
Dangling from the sun | |
The rooks, they seemed to follow him | |
Wherever he goes | |
Nodding thistle, english sun dew | |
Swansneck woman, childbed meadow | |
Aching shoulders sink and grow | |
As the bells from ditches toll | |
And the smeared skin wrapped limbs | |
Of the night brothers | |
Struggling.... crawling | |
Through the empty crack of morning | |
Of the night brothers... | |
Of the night brothers.... |