Chorale歌词-Alistair Payne&Tongo Eisen-Martin

Chorale歌词由Alistair Payne&Tongo Eisen-Martin演唱，出自专辑《Chorale》，下面是《Chorale》完整版歌词！

Chorale歌词完整版

You can tell by my tires that not everyone who has ridden with me is still alive.

Also, that I like my drinks neat, bottled, and in a bus stop… Also, that we are drowning in precinct paper, department store floor plans, and applications to the moon.

We can change the color of our snot from gifted to heart attack. I’ll tell you about ashes later…

But where are all these angels coming from smelling like the cigarette that fails?

And why is the man on the safe side of these headlights freezing up?

If you got nothing to say at my funeral, I’ll speak on your behalf

Heroin in my smile

Mountain made of flatland robbery

Among some things on my mind

The last store run in the name of shared afterlife

Friday to the filter

I’m a tall tale on earth

But here’s to that angel that never appeared to america

And a night of dog paddle

And a batch of hangovers looking for a home

A liar wouldn’t have lived this long

my humor

when fences speak

holding a pair of

rambling dice

that have unique tempers and young souls

that say shut up about our city

tidal months crash over a coast. Why lie?

the street’s teeth are in pieces there is reservoir art on the faces of stragglers

there is sad news from back that says we have to grow up on his behalf

stumble back to a car full of last stand the truth is stale

but still liquor

Mission Street would be proud of me

I am a mural man

almost organized

remember when my lungs would wake up last

walking all morning when it was worth it

man, I’m three decades homeless

and reservoir art is all I ever see

and I’m 2,000 miles from my first fight

maybe no one really survived

maybe I wrote my first poem for no reason

A lot of God can happen in three seconds

Not much heaven though

Here is a man before a fight: A leave-me-alone type of character

emerging from the penniless death

of a one-way-street fiction

I mean I’m going to make it

even if I got to drive backwards

All I got is chord changes and a thousand backhands

Driving a street like I’m choking it

Car full of nephews

There hasn’t been a son since November

And there hasn’t been a street I can’t choke to death

This city better back down

See this gun on the table

And something about staring until it all feels stable

Why wouldn’t I protect everyone

All my deaths sleep late

And I name them all

My son better be quick

My daughter better shoot first

Because we fold for no one

We fold for nothing

Ok, the first thing you’ll feel is a heat

This lady would tell me

Tell me about possession

Drink life neat is what I’d mostly hear

And most of the world leaves me alone

To breathe smog like a giant

To go to jail every once in a while

When the genocide kicks up in late May

When politicians have too easy a time:

I’m gassing backwards out a one-way street

In honor of myself

And in honor of you (if you understand the nature of the world)

How long I been just like my father

One hell of a resemblance says the anxiety of the neighborhood

This is crossroads

Crossroads narrative

So much crossroad that they got in the habit of turning back

Turn back only to find themselves remembering me

But not my last words

A man before a fight

You will feel a heat

But there’s nothing to keep in mind

Nothing to remember

Really nothing to be

Just this moment

Then another

Then stare

Then it all becomes stable

Then the table legs go fuzzy

And Friday is an unfamiliar face peaking through the window

It’s cool to panic for a second

Composure is wasted on your worst enemies

People are marked on that sidewalk

You the only thing life sized

Everybody knows this

In a wire hanger empire

When the blood stops walking

This feeling isn’t father enough to be permission to fold

You better swing one more time

Hit something

That father of yours

Rose from the grave and said, just give me five more minutes

Said, running water is a myth

It’s us who run up, down, and along the side of this water

And people don’t rise from the grave

They are not laid down neither

It’s us who flip all round their body

So beware when the people around you look like they are about to jump

It might be your time

You’ll feel a heat

And when four walls demand to be four walls

And the earth outside mutes

Do not panic

Do not recreate the earth outside

Do not tell jokes to yourself

Do not talk disrespectfully to the four walls

Instead, unclench your fist and walk away

There might be heaven

If you understand the nature of the world