Elevator Music Lyrics
| Song | Elevator Music |
| Artist | Beck |
| Album | The Information |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Beck | |
| 1, 2, you know what to do | |
| Alright, come on | |
| I'm uptight super gathered | |
| Out of the frame | |
| I shake a leg on the ground | |
| Like an epileptic battery man | |
| I'm making my move | |
| Lettin' loose like a belt | |
| Little worse for wear | |
| But I'm wearing it well | |
| Tell me, what's wrong | |
| With a little grind 'n' bump? | |
| When the stereos erupt | |
| With a kick drum punch? | |
| Once you do it once | |
| Probably do it again and again | |
| You did it before | |
| But you're more erratic than then | |
| And you had a rough night | |
| The night's just begun | |
| Let a little bit of this | |
| A pass with this gun | |
| Don't let it hold you back | |
| But you're already set | |
| No dead flowers gonna grow | |
| Until the dirt gets wet | |
| Put the elevator music on | |
| Pull me back where | |
| I belongThe ambulance sings along | |
| The fly on the wall | |
| Doesn't know what's wrong | |
| If I could forget myself | |
| You could find another lie to tell | |
| If I had a soul to sell | |
| I'd buy some time | |
| To talk to my brain cell | |
| Gut-bucket and a bottle of paint | |
| It's like the schoolhouse lights | |
| Will never turn on again' | |
| Til the bottom wears off | |
| Of these high-heeled boots | |
| The bodies all move | |
| With some backbone roots | |
| Everybody workin' hard' | |
| Til the yard is all clean | |
| The dishes wash good | |
| In the washin' machine | |
| Now you brush your teeth | |
| And you comb back your hair | |
| You drive your vehicle | |
| Like you just didn't care | |
| You're walkin' to work | |
| With the boys and the girls | |
| And you're doin' it there | |
| It's the end of the world | |
| Now when everybody's sweatin' | |
| Forgettin' what's on their minds | |
| With your hand like a mirror | |
| You can see what's inside | |
| When you're down and out | |
| Pounded and there's nothing that's real | |
| It's like a plastic heart | |
| Too amputated to feel | |
| I got a soda can | |
| Bible song | |
| A paranoid | |
| Jumbo-tron | |
| The Lord took the weekend off | |
| The fly on the wall | |
| Doesn't know what's wrong | |
| If I could forget myself | |
| I'd find another lie to tell | |
| The bottom of an oil well | |
| The cell phone's ringing | |
| I could talk to my brain cell | |
| Come on, what? | |
| All the dudes with the banjos | |
| Chicks with the wicks | |
| Animals with bananas | |
| I got my hand like a mirror | |
| With your hand like a mirror | |
| You can see what's around | |
| Oh, yeah |
| zuo ci : Beck | |
| 1, 2, you know what to do | |
| Alright, come on | |
| I' m uptight super gathered | |
| Out of the frame | |
| I shake a leg on the ground | |
| Like an epileptic battery man | |
| I' m making my move | |
| Lettin' loose like a belt | |
| Little worse for wear | |
| But I' m wearing it well | |
| Tell me, what' s wrong | |
| With a little grind ' n' bump? | |
| When the stereos erupt | |
| With a kick drum punch? | |
| Once you do it once | |
| Probably do it again and again | |
| You did it before | |
| But you' re more erratic than then | |
| And you had a rough night | |
| The night' s just begun | |
| Let a little bit of this | |
| A pass with this gun | |
| Don' t let it hold you back | |
| But you' re already set | |
| No dead flowers gonna grow | |
| Until the dirt gets wet | |
| Put the elevator music on | |
| Pull me back where | |
| I belongThe ambulance sings along | |
| The fly on the wall | |
| Doesn' t know what' s wrong | |
| If I could forget myself | |
| You could find another lie to tell | |
| If I had a soul to sell | |
| I' d buy some time | |
| To talk to my brain cell | |
| Gutbucket and a bottle of paint | |
| It' s like the schoolhouse lights | |
| Will never turn on again' | |
| Til the bottom wears off | |
| Of these highheeled boots | |
| The bodies all move | |
| With some backbone roots | |
| Everybody workin' hard' | |
| Til the yard is all clean | |
| The dishes wash good | |
| In the washin' machine | |
| Now you brush your teeth | |
| And you comb back your hair | |
| You drive your vehicle | |
| Like you just didn' t care | |
| You' re walkin' to work | |
| With the boys and the girls | |
| And you' re doin' it there | |
| It' s the end of the world | |
| Now when everybody' s sweatin' | |
| Forgettin' what' s on their minds | |
| With your hand like a mirror | |
| You can see what' s inside | |
| When you' re down and out | |
| Pounded and there' s nothing that' s real | |
| It' s like a plastic heart | |
| Too amputated to feel | |
| I got a soda can | |
| Bible song | |
| A paranoid | |
| Jumbotron | |
| The Lord took the weekend off | |
| The fly on the wall | |
| Doesn' t know what' s wrong | |
| If I could forget myself | |
| I' d find another lie to tell | |
| The bottom of an oil well | |
| The cell phone' s ringing | |
| I could talk to my brain cell | |
| Come on, what? | |
| All the dudes with the banjos | |
| Chicks with the wicks | |
| Animals with bananas | |
| I got my hand like a mirror | |
| With your hand like a mirror | |
| You can see what' s around | |
| Oh, yeah |
| zuò cí : Beck | |
| 1, 2, you know what to do | |
| Alright, come on | |
| I' m uptight super gathered | |
| Out of the frame | |
| I shake a leg on the ground | |
| Like an epileptic battery man | |
| I' m making my move | |
| Lettin' loose like a belt | |
| Little worse for wear | |
| But I' m wearing it well | |
| Tell me, what' s wrong | |
| With a little grind ' n' bump? | |
| When the stereos erupt | |
| With a kick drum punch? | |
| Once you do it once | |
| Probably do it again and again | |
| You did it before | |
| But you' re more erratic than then | |
| And you had a rough night | |
| The night' s just begun | |
| Let a little bit of this | |
| A pass with this gun | |
| Don' t let it hold you back | |
| But you' re already set | |
| No dead flowers gonna grow | |
| Until the dirt gets wet | |
| Put the elevator music on | |
| Pull me back where | |
| I belongThe ambulance sings along | |
| The fly on the wall | |
| Doesn' t know what' s wrong | |
| If I could forget myself | |
| You could find another lie to tell | |
| If I had a soul to sell | |
| I' d buy some time | |
| To talk to my brain cell | |
| Gutbucket and a bottle of paint | |
| It' s like the schoolhouse lights | |
| Will never turn on again' | |
| Til the bottom wears off | |
| Of these highheeled boots | |
| The bodies all move | |
| With some backbone roots | |
| Everybody workin' hard' | |
| Til the yard is all clean | |
| The dishes wash good | |
| In the washin' machine | |
| Now you brush your teeth | |
| And you comb back your hair | |
| You drive your vehicle | |
| Like you just didn' t care | |
| You' re walkin' to work | |
| With the boys and the girls | |
| And you' re doin' it there | |
| It' s the end of the world | |
| Now when everybody' s sweatin' | |
| Forgettin' what' s on their minds | |
| With your hand like a mirror | |
| You can see what' s inside | |
| When you' re down and out | |
| Pounded and there' s nothing that' s real | |
| It' s like a plastic heart | |
| Too amputated to feel | |
| I got a soda can | |
| Bible song | |
| A paranoid | |
| Jumbotron | |
| The Lord took the weekend off | |
| The fly on the wall | |
| Doesn' t know what' s wrong | |
| If I could forget myself | |
| I' d find another lie to tell | |
| The bottom of an oil well | |
| The cell phone' s ringing | |
| I could talk to my brain cell | |
| Come on, what? | |
| All the dudes with the banjos | |
| Chicks with the wicks | |
| Animals with bananas | |
| I got my hand like a mirror | |
| With your hand like a mirror | |
| You can see what' s around | |
| Oh, yeah |
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