当前位置:首页 >> Benjamin Britten&London Symphony Orchestra&William Waterhouse&Roger Lord&Gervase De Peyer&Alexander Murray&Denis Blyth&Osian Ellis&Barry Tuckwell&Sir Peter Pears >> 6. "She Sleeps On Soft, Last Breaths" 歌词
LRC歌词
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[ver:v1.0]
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[by:时间戳工具V2.0_20200810]
[00:27.870]She sleeps on soft
[00:30.250]Last breaths
[00:35.650]But no ghost looms
[00:39.120]Out of the stillness of her palace wall
[00:44.670]Her wall of boys on boys and dooms on dooms
[00:50.240]She dreams of golden gardens and sweet glooms
[01:07.980]Not marvelling why her roses never fall
[01:23.250]Nor what red mouths were torn to make their blooms
[01:46.130]The shades keep down which well might roam her hall
[02:10.690]Quiet their blood lies in her crimson rooms
[02:28.860]And she is not afraid of their footfall
[02:37.850]They move not from her tapestries
[02:56.030]Their pall
[02:59.350]Nor pace her terraces
[03:07.180]Their hecatombs
[03:14.210]Lest aught she be disturbed
[03:23.370]Or grieved at all
[ver:v1.0]
[ti:]
[ar:]
[al:]
[by:时间戳工具V2.0_20200810]
[00:27.870]She sleeps on soft
[00:30.250]Last breaths
[00:35.650]But no ghost looms
[00:39.120]Out of the stillness of her palace wall
[00:44.670]Her wall of boys on boys and dooms on dooms
[00:50.240]She dreams of golden gardens and sweet glooms
[01:07.980]Not marvelling why her roses never fall
[01:23.250]Nor what red mouths were torn to make their blooms
[01:46.130]The shades keep down which well might roam her hall
[02:10.690]Quiet their blood lies in her crimson rooms
[02:28.860]And she is not afraid of their footfall
[02:37.850]They move not from her tapestries
[02:56.030]Their pall
[02:59.350]Nor pace her terraces
[03:07.180]Their hecatombs
[03:14.210]Lest aught she be disturbed
[03:23.370]Or grieved at all
文本歌词
She sleeps on soft
Last breaths
But no ghost looms
Out of the stillness of her palace wall
Her wall of boys on boys and dooms on dooms
She dreams of golden gardens and sweet glooms
Not marvelling why her roses never fall
Nor what red mouths were torn to make their blooms
The shades keep down which well might roam her hall
Quiet their blood lies in her crimson rooms
And she is not afraid of their footfall
They move not from her tapestries
Their pall
Nor pace her terraces
Their hecatombs
Lest aught she be disturbed
Or grieved at all