歌曲名 Gold Fronts 歌手名 Portugal The Man

作词：John Gourley

作曲：佚名

The sun bent down and spoke with the last lips

They spoke of hell and things they knew they'd never miss

Bridge shelter and the cold creek bed

That breaks backs and leads eyes down

Until faces drag against the dirt

And ears living in this muddy sound

Where the white whales roll just once a year

And the arm feeds the hatchet with an African appetite

Matched machetes sparkle shine

And shape that small-scale guillotine

I've been getting pretty sleeping in these boxes

With those blackened mule faces outside my door

Shouting shouting Shouting shouting

The club met the seal and the seal met the dog

That carried the man to the end of the trail

Where they walked down the streets

Pavement was black beneath their feet

I have been having a little trouble with these black glass lungs

And dealing in the man with the gold tooth grin

I've been getting pretty sleeping in these boxes

With those blackened mule faces outside my door

Shouting shouting Shouting shouting

I've been getting pretty sleeping in these boxes

With those blackened mule faces outside my door

Shouting shouting Shouting shouting