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The Church
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The Disillusionist
作詞:Jay Dee Daugherty, Steven Kilbey, Peter Koppes, Marty Willson-piper
In autumn he comes to this town When the peoples guard is down On a day like today Overcast and gray
Bells were all ringing The birds stopped their singing The wind caught in the trees Screamin' to be free
He alights from the platform In his usual uniform His skin looks like he slept in it Or had somethin' rotten kept in it
And snakes stir in the thistles Back of cats neck bristles 'Round vicious lips the fur is stained The disillusionist is back again
They say that he's famous from the waist down But the top half of his body is a corpse His gold won't buy him sleep His poverty runs so deep In winter he cracks, in summer he warps
Hang around the backstage door But he knows what you're waitin' for You rub yourself against his fame Already ready to bear the blame
He asks you, 'Did you like my show?' As if he really wants to know Then doesn't wait for your reply He just pulls you back inside
You've started feelin' dizzy It isn't you or is he? Persuade you mentally Undresses you incidentally
Down the swaying corridor People you feel sorry for But when he puts the gaze on you You're amazed at what you'll let him do
They say that he's famous from the waist down But the top half of his body is a corpse His gold won't buy him sleep His poverty runs so deep In winter he cracks, in summer he warps
He can turn wine into water 更多更詳盡歌詞 在 ※ Mojim.com 魔鏡歌詞網 Mother against daughter Juggles busy deadlines Gets himself off headlines
Surrounded by his minions Who never have opinions Performing little tricks for you Puts it in a fix for you
Smashes your watch with a hammer Caresses you with camera And says the magic words That nobody's ever heard
Now the slur is fading Reality all pervadin' It only makes you want him more It only makes you fawn him more
They say that he's famous from the waist down But the top half of his body is a corpse His gold won't buy him sleep His poverty runs so deep In winter he cracks, in summer he warps
And he does the Indian rope trick The one that makes you seasick And he keeps on filling up your cup But you keep on filling up
And some of it's done with mirrors And some of it's done with scissors And some of it's done with cables And his hands under the table
It doesn't matter you want to believe It doesn't matter if you have to leave You won't escape his orbit And the things that you must forfeit
And the audience seems familiar Some of them in particular Bet you they are his plants When he plays the game of chance
He reads the minds of jilted girls And the story really unfurls Cast a fortune for the man in the suit Who's suffering is very acute
There's a rabbit in his hat But I thought I smelled a rat
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