Joanie - Rabbitology.lrc

LRC歌词下载
[00:00.00] 作曲 : Natalie Timmerman
[00:11.82]February crackles within her armor
[00:19.14]Joanie, do you envy her?
[00:23.91]Even wrestling wildfires
[00:25.95]She buries her heart in her footprints
[00:59.91]Oh, oh
[01:22.89]Joanie
[01:23.01]Smoke humming down a log’s bruised neck
[01:29.01]The spruces they burn black but they’ll sprout back up again
[01:37.92]Would I show who I am, if I knew this world would end
[01:41.73]Or would I snuff sparks as they catch?
[01:47.88]Joan, your ghost, it roots from my stomach to my throat
[01:52.23]Branches splinter through my lungs begging me please let this grow
[02:00.51]Oh do you not tremble at the thought
[02:06.36]That we could both go up in smoke?
[02:13.98]Is it the first gasp, or final breath that hurts the most?
[02:19.71]Is it that rise from fiery night to an indifferent dawn’s cold
[02:27.03]To heal new skin but be buried in the same old
[02:31.86]Clothes?
[03:05.61]Ooh
[03:05.64]Joanie
[03:05.76]Don’t you wish God would rip from the seams?
[03:08.22]Grip our hands, tell us what we should be
[03:11.31]Stop these men from messing with the strings
[03:14.40]From reducing God to a wood for burnings
[03:19.20]Should I breathe smoke one day?
[03:21.60]That’s for Joan, that’s for Joanie
文本歌词
作曲 : Natalie Timmerman
February crackles within her armor
Joanie, do you envy her?
Even wrestling wildfires
She buries her heart in her footprints
Oh, oh
Joanie
Smoke humming down a log’s bruised neck
The spruces they burn black but they’ll sprout back up again
Would I show who I am, if I knew this world would end
Or would I snuff sparks as they catch?
Joan, your ghost, it roots from my stomach to my throat
Branches splinter through my lungs begging me please let this grow
Oh do you not tremble at the thought
That we could both go up in smoke?
Is it the first gasp, or final breath that hurts the most?
Is it that rise from fiery night to an indifferent dawn’s cold
To heal new skin but be buried in the same old
Clothes?
Ooh
Joanie
Don’t you wish God would rip from the seams?
Grip our hands, tell us what we should be
Stop these men from messing with the strings
From reducing God to a wood for burnings
Should I breathe smoke one day?
That’s for Joan, that’s for Joanie