选择音轨
标题:One Hundred Years
艺人:The Cure
专辑:Pornography (1982)
作词:Gallup / Smith / Tolhurst
作曲:Gallup / Smith / Tolhurst
制谱人:tabmatt (mrodmacq@yahoo.fr)
节拍: ♩ = 132
注释:w/ delay + chorusIt doesn't matter if we all dieAmbition in the back of a black carIn a high building there is so much to doGoing home time a story on the radioSomething small falls out ofYour mouth and we laughA prayer for something betterA prayer for something betterPlease love meMeet my motherAnd the fearTakes holdCreeping up the stairs in the darkWaiting for the death blowWaiting for theDeath blowWaiting for the death blowStroking your hair as the patriots are shotFighting for freedom on the televisionSharing the world with slaughtered pigsHave we got everything ?She struggles to get awayThe pain and the creeping feelingA little black haired girlWaiting for saturdayThe death of her father pushing herPushing her white face into the mirrorAching inside me and turn me aroundJust like the old daysJust like the old daysJust like the old daysJust like the old daysCaressing an old man and painting a lifeless faceJust a piece of new meatIn a clean roomThe soldiers close in under a yellow moonAll shadows and deliveranceUnder a black flagA hundred years of blood crimson the ribbonTightens round my throat I open my mouthAnd my head bursts openA sound like a tigerThrashing in the waterThrashing in the waterOver and over we die one after the otherOver and overWe die one after the otherOne after the otherOne after the otherOne after the otherOne after the otherIt feels like a hundred yearsA hundred yearsA hundred yearsA hundred yearsOne hundred years
标记:IntroVerse 1 (0:36)Verse 2 (1:20)1:492:03Verse 3 (2:32)3:303:45Verse 4 (4:14)5:125:26Guitar solo (5:41)6:10
歌词:
It doesn't matter if we all die
Ambition in the back of a black car
In a high building there is so much to do
Going home time
A story on the radio
Something small falls out of your mouth
And we laugh
A prayer for something better
A prayer
For something better
Please love me
Meet my mother
But the fear takes hold
Creeping up the stairs in the dark
Waiting for the death blow
Waiting for the death blow
Waiting for the death blow
Stroking your hair as the patriots are shot
Fighting for freedom on the television
Sharing the world with slaughtered pigs
Have we got everything?
She struggles to get away . . .
The pain
And the creeping feeling
A little black haired girl
Waiting for Saturday
The death of her father pushing her
Pushing her white face into the mirror
Aching inside me
And turn me round
Just like the old days
Just like the old days
Just like the old days
Just like the old days
Caressing an old man
And painting a lifeless face
Just a piece of new meat in a clean room
The soldiers close in under a yellow moon
All shadows and deliverance
Under a black flag
A hundred years of blood
Crimson
The ribbon tightens round my throat
I open my mouth
And my head bursts open
A sound like a tiger thrashing in the water
Thrashing in the water
Over and over
We die one after the other
Over and over
We die one after the other
One after the other
One after the other
One after the other
One after the other
It feels like a hundred years
A hundred years
A hundred years
A hundred years
A hundred years
One hundred years