Song | Little Palaces |
Artist | Elvis Costello |
Album | King of America |
作词 : MacManus | |
In chocolate town all the trains are painted brown | |
On the silver paper of the wrapper there's a dapper little man | |
And he wears a wax mustache that he twists with nicotine fingers | |
As he drops his cigarette ash and someone comes and sweeps it up | |
And then he doffs his cap and there's a rat in someones bedroom | |
And they're shutting someones trap | |
And they'll soon be pulling down the little palaces | |
And the doors swing back and forward, from the past into the present | |
And the bedside crucifixion turns from wood to phosphorescent | |
And they're moving problem families from the south up to the north | |
Mothers crying over some soft soap opera divorce | |
And you say you didn't do it, but you know you did of course | |
And they'll soon be pulling down the little palaces | |
It's like shouting in a matchbox, filled with plasterboard and hope | |
Like a picture of | |
Prince William in the arms of | |
John the Pope | |
There's a world of good intentions and pity in their eyes | |
The sedated homes of | |
England are their's to vandalize | |
So you knock the kids about a bit, because they've got your name | |
And you knock the kids about a bit, until they feel the same | |
And they feel like knocking down the little palaces | |
You're the twinkle in your daddy's eye, a name you spray and scribble | |
You made the girls all turn their heads and in turn they made you miserable | |
To be the heir apparent, to the kingdom of the invisible | |
So you knock the kids about a bit because they've got your name | |
And you knock the kids about a bit, until they feel the same | |
And they feel like knocking down the little palaces |
zuò cí : MacManus | |
In chocolate town all the trains are painted brown | |
On the silver paper of the wrapper there' s a dapper little man | |
And he wears a wax mustache that he twists with nicotine fingers | |
As he drops his cigarette ash and someone comes and sweeps it up | |
And then he doffs his cap and there' s a rat in someones bedroom | |
And they' re shutting someones trap | |
And they' ll soon be pulling down the little palaces | |
And the doors swing back and forward, from the past into the present | |
And the bedside crucifixion turns from wood to phosphorescent | |
And they' re moving problem families from the south up to the north | |
Mothers crying over some soft soap opera divorce | |
And you say you didn' t do it, but you know you did of course | |
And they' ll soon be pulling down the little palaces | |
It' s like shouting in a matchbox, filled with plasterboard and hope | |
Like a picture of | |
Prince William in the arms of | |
John the Pope | |
There' s a world of good intentions and pity in their eyes | |
The sedated homes of | |
England are their' s to vandalize | |
So you knock the kids about a bit, because they' ve got your name | |
And you knock the kids about a bit, until they feel the same | |
And they feel like knocking down the little palaces | |
You' re the twinkle in your daddy' s eye, a name you spray and scribble | |
You made the girls all turn their heads and in turn they made you miserable | |
To be the heir apparent, to the kingdom of the invisible | |
So you knock the kids about a bit because they' ve got your name | |
And you knock the kids about a bit, until they feel the same | |
And they feel like knocking down the little palaces |