[00:00.000] 作词 : Anna-Varney Cantodea
[00:01.000] 作曲 : Anna-Varney Cantodea
[01:52.220]Oh, I the wetly weak claw, led by his strong warm paw
[02:04.140]walking the forbidden path
[02:11.040]through high uncut summer grass
[02:16.170]while hunters nose dive, membranes servants to their flight
[02:28.480]were buzzing all around our heads black parasol, balance and shades
[02:53.220]Those little bells on my fool's cap
[02:59.250]all witness to my sad defect
[03:05.600]crowning my pale seriousness, in most ridiculous distress
[03:17.720]The smile on his weather-tanned face
[03:23.880]his white teeth somewhat out of place
[03:30.030]the gentle roughness of his hands
[03:36.720]dark soil staining his fingernails
[04:44.980]Ushered into the forest's hold
[04:49.370]I'm folding up my parasol
[04:54.630]heralding fears of deprivation
[04:59.590]in answer to my hesitation
[05:04.170]he's parting the branches as we move
[05:08.660]I dare a smile in shy excuse
[05:13.310]Oh does he know the ghosts I drag
[05:18.170]the dreadful ending I expect?
[05:23.300]The boyish hand of this olden maid, hints secrets, guarded by her face
[06:06.360]Does your world know my shadow's near,
[06:11.680]the loop of time I always fear?
[06:20.490]The fact that I carelessly stepped into my very own, dark trap?
[06:49.060]You stride, I'm glancing at your belt ... -
[06:53.860]should I miss any of the things I never felt?
[07:02.770]The shaking hand of this olden maid
[07:04.450]dark soil staining his fingernails
[07:08.930]instead waters the flowers on her ancient grave.

作词 : Anna-Varney Cantodea
作曲 : Anna-Varney Cantodea
Oh, I the wetly weak claw, led by his strong warm paw
walking the forbidden path
through high uncut summer grass
while hunters nose dive, membranes servants to their flight
were buzzing all around our heads black parasol, balance and shades
Those little bells on my fool's cap
all witness to my sad defect
crowning my pale seriousness, in most ridiculous distress
The smile on his weather-tanned face
his white teeth somewhat out of place
the gentle roughness of his hands
dark soil staining his fingernails
Ushered into the forest's hold
I'm folding up my parasol
heralding fears of deprivation
in answer to my hesitation
he's parting the branches as we move
I dare a smile in shy excuse
Oh does he know the ghosts I drag
the dreadful ending I expect?
The boyish hand of this olden maid, hints secrets, guarded by her face
Does your world know my shadow's near,
the loop of time I always fear?
The fact that I carelessly stepped into my very own, dark trap?
You stride, I'm glancing at your belt ... -
should I miss any of the things I never felt?
The shaking hand of this olden maid
dark soil staining his fingernails
instead waters the flowers on her ancient grave.