SCARECROW《Fire Is Dead》歌词
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作词 : SCARECROW 作曲 : SCARECROW Fire Is Dead Throat is tight. Biting my tongue till I taste the rust. Staring at the empty nail on the yellow wall. The heavy brown coat is gone, just a shadow in the dust. Swallowing the bitter water down, looking at the silent town. Striking the wooden match, watching the yellow paper burn to black. Striking the wooden match, watching the yellow paper burn to black. No turning back. No turning back. The heavy door shuts like thunder in my head. Choking on the bitter words that I never said. Sweeping up the cold grey ash from the iron pan, trying to hold the running water in a shaking hand. The fire is dead. The fire is dead. Footsteps fading down the wooden stair, grasping at the empty winter air. A pocket full of salt, a mouthful of sand. Drawing a map for a forgotten land. Iron nail tearing at my skin, losing the game before I begin. Striking the wooden match, watching the yellow paper burn to black. Striking the wooden match, watching the yellow paper burn to black. No turning back. No turning back. The heavy door shuts like thunder in my head. Choking on the bitter words that I never said. Sweeping up the cold grey ash from the iron pan, trying to hold the running water in a shaking hand. The fire is dead. The fire is dead. Ash on the floor, lock on the door. Tongue tied tight, end of the light. The fire is dead. Never said. Never said. |
[00:00.000] 作词 : SCARECROW [00:00.949] 作曲 : SCARECROW [00:01.898]Fire Is Dead [00:07.447]Throat is tight. [00:09.712]Biting my tongue till I taste the rust. [00:17.461]Staring at the empty nail on the yellow wall. [00:23.181]The heavy brown coat is gone, [00:26.696]just a shadow in the dust. [00:28.664]Swallowing the bitter water down, [00:31.228]looking at the silent town. [00:34.509]Striking the wooden match, [00:37.200]watching the yellow paper burn to black. [00:39.849]Striking the wooden match, [00:42.343]watching the yellow paper burn to black. [00:44.529]No turning back. [00:45.979]No turning back. [00:49.709]The heavy door shuts like thunder in my head. [00:54.795]Choking on the bitter words that I never said. [00:58.910]Sweeping up the cold grey ash from the iron pan, [01:02.118]trying to hold the running water in a shaking hand. [01:05.086]The fire is dead. [01:07.586]The fire is dead. [01:20.478]Footsteps fading down the wooden stair, [01:23.243]grasping at the empty winter air. [01:25.743]A pocket full of salt, [01:27.180]a mouthful of sand. [01:28.519]Drawing a map for a forgotten land. [01:31.280]Iron nail tearing at my skin, [01:36.133]losing the game before I begin. [01:42.351]Striking the wooden match, [01:45.061]watching the yellow paper burn to black. [01:48.038]Striking the wooden match, [01:50.320]watching the yellow paper burn to black. [01:52.523]No turning back. [01:53.999]No turning back. [01:57.759]The heavy door shuts like thunder in my head. [02:03.196]Choking on the bitter words that I never said. [02:07.284]Sweeping up the cold grey ash from the iron pan, [02:10.258]trying to hold the running water in a shaking hand. [02:12.997]The fire is dead. [02:15.724]The fire is dead. [02:19.294]Ash on the floor, [02:21.990]lock on the door. [02:24.195]Tongue tied tight, [02:27.469]end of the light. [02:29.434]The fire is dead. [02:34.367]Never said. [02:37.359]Never said. |