| 作词 : Momus | |
| Post morning, pre-mortem | |
| I promised the ghost of Meleager | |
| I would marry Deianira | |
| So I went to Calydon where Oeneus was king | |
| Stopping to fight the river god Achelous on the way | |
| I won when I broke his horn | |
| In the pyramid at Giza | |
| I become lost in a succession of chambers | |
| I am blind like Homer yet strangely I still see | |
| Screenprinted cows and silver foil | |
| Gigantic ants scuttling on a motherboard | |
| While I sew with Ariadne, the white rabbit | |
| Scurries away down next door's burrow | |
| Two in the afternoon | |
| In an ephemeral hospital | |
| The radio therapy ward is filled with tiny lights | |
| A pile of dim barely perceptible earth in a heap | |
| And spiritual distant music | |
| At two in the afternoon | |
| I wander in Venice with Von Aschenbach | |
| Seeking a lost child in a red cape | |
| Coughing blood | |
| And the swine of Circe come running to their deaths | |
| Maddened by the singing of the sirens | |
| Winter fog rolling in off the lido | |
| Sometimes a god crosses your path here unannounced | |
| In the pyramid the mummy grows mouldy at the last | |
| At two in the afternoon | |
| Haile Selassi orders a stamp collection to be brought | |
| Lifts the stamps with tweezers and places them back | |
| I leave him to his pastime | |
| For time will probably pass regardless | |
| I strike out from Alexandria to the Athenian apartment | |
| Of my ninth year | |
| Lycabetus blasted in monastic rock | |
| The hot mountains snow capped with marble | |
| Dust storms over Psychico | |
| Lime Cordial on Eucalyptus Square | |
| Where is it now? | |
| And where also my Parisian child bride? | |
| Into the sea they flow | |
| With Villon's medieval snow | |
| Four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon | |
| Three at evening, | |
| Flat on our backs by dawn | |
| Two in the afternoon | |
| Gracchus the hunter joins me now | |
| He offers me the oars and I row | |
| From one Greek island to the next | |
| While Gracchus writes, if it be possible so deep in death to write | |
| The secrets of the world | |
| In the margins of a little girl's spidery pencilled Spice Girls scrapbook | |
| Picked up from the ground in Hackney | |
| The crows of Tokyo are sombre umbrellas | |
| Flapping atop telegraph poles in the rainy season | |
| A writer hurries by dressed in a restrained check pattern | |
| Composing in his head the 31st syllable of a tanka | |
| Leigh Bowery is sitting at his sewing machine | |
| Corpulent, pale eyed | |
| Flash forward: he is stammering "a few more days" | |
| As they threaten to turn off his life support machine | |
| And the ECG bleep goes spastic | |
| Slavic women decorate their anguish with ullulations | |
| The mongolian terror is fresh in their memories | |
| Grim dawn comes from the east bringing carrion | |
| Over the grass of the highlands | |
| Gulls girn, denouncing all culprits | |
| The skull prickles, the hairs rise | |
| Poe indulges in voluptuous melancholia, polysyllabic | |
| Like the grass the horsemen know | |
| We perish | |
| For me it's 2PM | |
| For the moment life goes on | |
| And the Minotaur plays Nintendo | |
| Basho squats before the emperor | |
| The former thirteen and a half year old genius | |
| Exposes himself in a subway passage | |
| To a halfwit girl he scares half out of her wits | |
| As Brahms completes his Requiem | |
| Shakespeare and the Bishop Of Winchester | |
| Are teasing the fraus in the stews of Southwark | |
| They are baiting bears in the nearby pit | |
| The arena has been flooded | |
| Shakespeare and the Bishop take their seats for the re-enactment of | |
| The sea battle between the Genji and Haike | |
| The imperial boat is already on fire | |
| The battle was lost centuries before | |
| Deianira agrees to be my wife | |
| We purchase an ivy green Lexus, flagship of the range | |
| And live, discreetly luxurious, in a premier shell loft conversion in the Hollywood hills | |
| The converted observatory at Palo Alto | |
| Three at evening, | |
| Flat on our backs by dawn | |
| For me it's 2PM | |
| For the moment life goes on | |
| Four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon | |
| Three at evening | |
| Flat on our backs by dawn |
| zuo ci : Momus | |
| Post morning, premortem | |
| I promised the ghost of Meleager | |
| I would marry Deianira | |
| So I went to Calydon where Oeneus was king | |
| Stopping to fight the river god Achelous on the way | |
| I won when I broke his horn | |
| In the pyramid at Giza | |
| I become lost in a succession of chambers | |
| I am blind like Homer yet strangely I still see | |
| Screenprinted cows and silver foil | |
| Gigantic ants scuttling on a motherboard | |
| While I sew with Ariadne, the white rabbit | |
| Scurries away down next door' s burrow | |
| Two in the afternoon | |
| In an ephemeral hospital | |
| The radio therapy ward is filled with tiny lights | |
| A pile of dim barely perceptible earth in a heap | |
| And spiritual distant music | |
| At two in the afternoon | |
| I wander in Venice with Von Aschenbach | |
| Seeking a lost child in a red cape | |
| Coughing blood | |
| And the swine of Circe come running to their deaths | |
| Maddened by the singing of the sirens | |
| Winter fog rolling in off the lido | |
| Sometimes a god crosses your path here unannounced | |
| In the pyramid the mummy grows mouldy at the last | |
| At two in the afternoon | |
| Haile Selassi orders a stamp collection to be brought | |
| Lifts the stamps with tweezers and places them back | |
| I leave him to his pastime | |
| For time will probably pass regardless | |
| I strike out from Alexandria to the Athenian apartment | |
| Of my ninth year | |
| Lycabetus blasted in monastic rock | |
| The hot mountains snow capped with marble | |
| Dust storms over Psychico | |
| Lime Cordial on Eucalyptus Square | |
| Where is it now? | |
| And where also my Parisian child bride? | |
| Into the sea they flow | |
| With Villon' s medieval snow | |
| Four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon | |
| Three at evening, | |
| Flat on our backs by dawn | |
| Two in the afternoon | |
| Gracchus the hunter joins me now | |
| He offers me the oars and I row | |
| From one Greek island to the next | |
| While Gracchus writes, if it be possible so deep in death to write | |
| The secrets of the world | |
| In the margins of a little girl' s spidery pencilled Spice Girls scrapbook | |
| Picked up from the ground in Hackney | |
| The crows of Tokyo are sombre umbrellas | |
| Flapping atop telegraph poles in the rainy season | |
| A writer hurries by dressed in a restrained check pattern | |
| Composing in his head the 31st syllable of a tanka | |
| Leigh Bowery is sitting at his sewing machine | |
| Corpulent, pale eyed | |
| Flash forward: he is stammering " a few more days" | |
| As they threaten to turn off his life support machine | |
| And the ECG bleep goes spastic | |
| Slavic women decorate their anguish with ullulations | |
| The mongolian terror is fresh in their memories | |
| Grim dawn comes from the east bringing carrion | |
| Over the grass of the highlands | |
| Gulls girn, denouncing all culprits | |
| The skull prickles, the hairs rise | |
| Poe indulges in voluptuous melancholia, polysyllabic | |
| Like the grass the horsemen know | |
| We perish | |
| For me it' s 2PM | |
| For the moment life goes on | |
| And the Minotaur plays Nintendo | |
| Basho squats before the emperor | |
| The former thirteen and a half year old genius | |
| Exposes himself in a subway passage | |
| To a halfwit girl he scares half out of her wits | |
| As Brahms completes his Requiem | |
| Shakespeare and the Bishop Of Winchester | |
| Are teasing the fraus in the stews of Southwark | |
| They are baiting bears in the nearby pit | |
| The arena has been flooded | |
| Shakespeare and the Bishop take their seats for the reenactment of | |
| The sea battle between the Genji and Haike | |
| The imperial boat is already on fire | |
| The battle was lost centuries before | |
| Deianira agrees to be my wife | |
| We purchase an ivy green Lexus, flagship of the range | |
| And live, discreetly luxurious, in a premier shell loft conversion in the Hollywood hills | |
| The converted observatory at Palo Alto | |
| Three at evening, | |
| Flat on our backs by dawn | |
| For me it' s 2PM | |
| For the moment life goes on | |
| Four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon | |
| Three at evening | |
| Flat on our backs by dawn |
| zuò cí : Momus | |
| Post morning, premortem | |
| I promised the ghost of Meleager | |
| I would marry Deianira | |
| So I went to Calydon where Oeneus was king | |
| Stopping to fight the river god Achelous on the way | |
| I won when I broke his horn | |
| In the pyramid at Giza | |
| I become lost in a succession of chambers | |
| I am blind like Homer yet strangely I still see | |
| Screenprinted cows and silver foil | |
| Gigantic ants scuttling on a motherboard | |
| While I sew with Ariadne, the white rabbit | |
| Scurries away down next door' s burrow | |
| Two in the afternoon | |
| In an ephemeral hospital | |
| The radio therapy ward is filled with tiny lights | |
| A pile of dim barely perceptible earth in a heap | |
| And spiritual distant music | |
| At two in the afternoon | |
| I wander in Venice with Von Aschenbach | |
| Seeking a lost child in a red cape | |
| Coughing blood | |
| And the swine of Circe come running to their deaths | |
| Maddened by the singing of the sirens | |
| Winter fog rolling in off the lido | |
| Sometimes a god crosses your path here unannounced | |
| In the pyramid the mummy grows mouldy at the last | |
| At two in the afternoon | |
| Haile Selassi orders a stamp collection to be brought | |
| Lifts the stamps with tweezers and places them back | |
| I leave him to his pastime | |
| For time will probably pass regardless | |
| I strike out from Alexandria to the Athenian apartment | |
| Of my ninth year | |
| Lycabetus blasted in monastic rock | |
| The hot mountains snow capped with marble | |
| Dust storms over Psychico | |
| Lime Cordial on Eucalyptus Square | |
| Where is it now? | |
| And where also my Parisian child bride? | |
| Into the sea they flow | |
| With Villon' s medieval snow | |
| Four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon | |
| Three at evening, | |
| Flat on our backs by dawn | |
| Two in the afternoon | |
| Gracchus the hunter joins me now | |
| He offers me the oars and I row | |
| From one Greek island to the next | |
| While Gracchus writes, if it be possible so deep in death to write | |
| The secrets of the world | |
| In the margins of a little girl' s spidery pencilled Spice Girls scrapbook | |
| Picked up from the ground in Hackney | |
| The crows of Tokyo are sombre umbrellas | |
| Flapping atop telegraph poles in the rainy season | |
| A writer hurries by dressed in a restrained check pattern | |
| Composing in his head the 31st syllable of a tanka | |
| Leigh Bowery is sitting at his sewing machine | |
| Corpulent, pale eyed | |
| Flash forward: he is stammering " a few more days" | |
| As they threaten to turn off his life support machine | |
| And the ECG bleep goes spastic | |
| Slavic women decorate their anguish with ullulations | |
| The mongolian terror is fresh in their memories | |
| Grim dawn comes from the east bringing carrion | |
| Over the grass of the highlands | |
| Gulls girn, denouncing all culprits | |
| The skull prickles, the hairs rise | |
| Poe indulges in voluptuous melancholia, polysyllabic | |
| Like the grass the horsemen know | |
| We perish | |
| For me it' s 2PM | |
| For the moment life goes on | |
| And the Minotaur plays Nintendo | |
| Basho squats before the emperor | |
| The former thirteen and a half year old genius | |
| Exposes himself in a subway passage | |
| To a halfwit girl he scares half out of her wits | |
| As Brahms completes his Requiem | |
| Shakespeare and the Bishop Of Winchester | |
| Are teasing the fraus in the stews of Southwark | |
| They are baiting bears in the nearby pit | |
| The arena has been flooded | |
| Shakespeare and the Bishop take their seats for the reenactment of | |
| The sea battle between the Genji and Haike | |
| The imperial boat is already on fire | |
| The battle was lost centuries before | |
| Deianira agrees to be my wife | |
| We purchase an ivy green Lexus, flagship of the range | |
| And live, discreetly luxurious, in a premier shell loft conversion in the Hollywood hills | |
| The converted observatory at Palo Alto | |
| Three at evening, | |
| Flat on our backs by dawn | |
| For me it' s 2PM | |
| For the moment life goes on | |
| Four legs in the morning, two in the afternoon | |
| Three at evening | |
| Flat on our backs by dawn |
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