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Wind Up歌词

歌曲名: Wind Up  歌手: Jethro Tull  所属专辑: 《Through The Years》

介绍:《Wind Up》 是 Jethro Tull 演唱的歌曲,该歌曲收录在《Through The Years》专辑中,如果您觉得好听的话,就把歌词分享给您的朋友共同聆听,一起支持歌手Jethro Tull吧!

Wind Up

作词 : Ian Anderson
作曲 : Ian Anderson
When i was young and they packed me off to school
And taught me how not to play the game,
I didn't mind if they groomed me for success,
Or if they said that i was a fool.
So i left there in the morning
With their god tucked underneath my arm --
Their half-assed smiles and the book of rules.
So i asked this god a question
And by way of firm reply,
He said -- i'm not the kind you have to wind up on sundays.
So to my old headmaster (and to anyone who cares):
Before i'm through i'd like to say my prayers --
I don't believe you:
You had the whole damn thing all wrong --
He's not the kind you have to wind up on sundays.
Well you can excomunicate me on my way to sunday school
And have all the bishops harmonize these lines --
How do you dare tell me that i'm my father's son
When that was just an accident of birth.
I'd rather look around me -- compose a better song
`cos that's the honest measure of my worth.
In your pomp and all your glory you're a poorer man than me,
As you lick the boots of death born out of fear.
I don't believe you:
You had the whole damn thing all wrong --
He's not the kind you have to wind up on sundays.

Wind UpLRC歌词

作词 : Ian Anderson
作曲 : Ian Anderson
When i was young and they packed me off to school
And taught me how not to play the game,
I didn't mind if they groomed me for success,
Or if they said that i was a fool.
So i left there in the morning
With their god tucked underneath my arm --
Their half-assed smiles and the book of rules.
So i asked this god a question
And by way of firm reply,
He said -- i'm not the kind you have to wind up on sundays.
So to my old headmaster (and to anyone who cares):
Before i'm through i'd like to say my prayers --
I don't believe you:
You had the whole damn thing all wrong --
He's not the kind you have to wind up on sundays.
Well you can excomunicate me on my way to sunday school
And have all the bishops harmonize these lines --
How do you dare tell me that i'm my father's son
When that was just an accident of birth.
I'd rather look around me -- compose a better song
`cos that's the honest measure of my worth.
In your pomp and all your glory you're a poorer man than me,
As you lick the boots of death born out of fear.
I don't believe you:
You had the whole damn thing all wrong --
He's not the kind you have to wind up on sundays.

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