Song | Donald and Lydia |
Artist | John Prine |
Album | Great Days: The John Prine Anthology |
作词 : Prine | |
Lyrics:John Prine Music:John Prine | |
Small town, bright lights, saturday night, | |
Pinballs and pool halls flashing their lights. | |
Making change behind the counter in a penny arcade | |
Sat the fat girl daughter of virginia and ray | |
(spoken:) | |
Lydia | |
Lydia hid her thoughts like a cat | |
Behind her small eyes sunk deep in her fat. | |
She read romance magazines up in her room | |
And felt just like sunday on saturday afternoon. | |
Chorus: | |
But dreaming just comes natural | |
Like the first breath from a baby, | |
Like sunshine feeding daisies, | |
Like the love hidden deep in your heart. | |
Bunk beds, shaved heads, saturday night, | |
A warehouse of strangers with sixty watt lights. | |
Staring through the ceiling, just wanting to be | |
Lay one of too many, a young pfc: | |
(spoken:) | |
Donald | |
There were spaces between donald and whatever he said. | |
Strangers had forced him to live in his head. | |
He envisioned the details of romantic scenes | |
After midnight in the stillness of the barracks latrine. | |
Repeat chorus: | |
Hot love, cold love, no love at all. | |
A portrait of guilt is hung on the wall. | |
Nothing is wrong, nothing is right. | |
Donald and lydia made love that night. | |
(spoken:) | |
Love | |
The made love in the mountains, they made love in the streams, | |
They made love in the valleys, they made love in their dreams. | |
But when they were finished there was nothing to say, | |
'cause mostly they made love from ten miles away. | |
Repeat chorus: |
zuò cí : Prine | |
Lyrics: John Prine Music: John Prine | |
Small town, bright lights, saturday night, | |
Pinballs and pool halls flashing their lights. | |
Making change behind the counter in a penny arcade | |
Sat the fat girl daughter of virginia and ray | |
spoken: | |
Lydia | |
Lydia hid her thoughts like a cat | |
Behind her small eyes sunk deep in her fat. | |
She read romance magazines up in her room | |
And felt just like sunday on saturday afternoon. | |
Chorus: | |
But dreaming just comes natural | |
Like the first breath from a baby, | |
Like sunshine feeding daisies, | |
Like the love hidden deep in your heart. | |
Bunk beds, shaved heads, saturday night, | |
A warehouse of strangers with sixty watt lights. | |
Staring through the ceiling, just wanting to be | |
Lay one of too many, a young pfc: | |
spoken: | |
Donald | |
There were spaces between donald and whatever he said. | |
Strangers had forced him to live in his head. | |
He envisioned the details of romantic scenes | |
After midnight in the stillness of the barracks latrine. | |
Repeat chorus: | |
Hot love, cold love, no love at all. | |
A portrait of guilt is hung on the wall. | |
Nothing is wrong, nothing is right. | |
Donald and lydia made love that night. | |
spoken: | |
Love | |
The made love in the mountains, they made love in the streams, | |
They made love in the valleys, they made love in their dreams. | |
But when they were finished there was nothing to say, | |
' cause mostly they made love from ten miles away. | |
Repeat chorus: |