[00:00.000] 作曲 : Bubba Kadane/Matt Kadane
[00:00.584]There are no chip stones in your cemetery smile
[00:11.921]Your mouth doesn't dare to shake their graves
[00:16.605]They bury it in military-style
[00:23.113]But I noticed there was more in there
[00:29.999]In that mouth that held so much cold air
[00:37.469]Words as forgotten as what wasn't meant for hearing
[00:49.389]You must have learned how to talk
[00:54.358]From looking at vases
[01:00.118]You know the ones with cracking masks
[01:03.357]With Roman faces, and heroes count their graces
[01:11.322]You know the kind with frozen lines
[01:18.732]And edges as sharp as your soured wine
[01:26.321]I really need your voice, but that doesn't rhyme [?]
[01:37.025]
[02:01.164]What were you trying to say to me?
[02:08.122]Words as dead as the salt-sea
[02:15.987]Spoken from the Nineteenth century, you see
[02:27.458]
[02:57.774]It started off from the East
[03:01.399]And worked it's way into my ear
[03:08.708]And everything that I understood
[03:14.404]I really didn't hear
[03:20.436]Were the words spoken by your ghost
[03:27.957]A fossilized, Turkish-Tehran host
[03:35.582]Or maybe someone from an Anatolia coast
[03:42.649]Maybe both