歌词

So the certainty is I can get no air,
Getting nowhere at all,
Open-ended and suspended one by one,
In the slipstream,
And Harvest hold the horrorbag,
Emotion starts to lag,
With panache I keep a-crashing,
Through the sky,
No compassion have I.

Kick a kiss of superstition and I cry,
"Just a guide or I throw
All the panic I can muster,
Threatening to the cluster";
The hangman's whore so obvious,
Discretion's such a drag,
But I know his apparatus snows my mind,
When it gets too far out.

歌词在下面...

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Guard the ribs and fall,
I long to catch my breath, condemm it all
As the number I become,
They count me out a volunteer.

See how they run in silence up all the belfry steps,
Each unaffected by the sight of the blistered skin;
Someone to calm me till the pounding in my head stops,
Over the tens of thousands find no way out or in:
Through the pandemonium, my heart is beating like a drum,
Barricaded in here, crawling's getting creepier,
With my head in my hands, all the heaven in my heart.

Get me out of here, let me get away,
Let me go from here, get me out away,
Get me out of here, let me get away,
Let me out of here, let me go today

Writer(s): Peter Jonathan Nicholls, Geoffey Orford Martin, Michael Brian Holmes, Paul Nigel Cook, Tim Esau

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