Your native language

عربي

Arabic

عربي

简体中文

Chinese

简体中文

Nederlands

Dutch

Nederlands

Français

French

Français

Deutsch

German

Deutsch

Italiano

Italian

Italiano

日本語

Japanese

日本語

한국인

Korean

한국인

Polski

Polish

Polski

Português

Portuguese

Português

Română

Romanian

Română

Русский

Russian

Русский

Español

Spanish

Español

Türk

Turkish

Türk

Українська

Ukrainian

Українська
User Avatar

音效


界面


难度等级


口音



界面语言

zh

Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Cookie 政策   |   技术支援   |   FAQ
1
注册/登录
Lyrkit

5$

Lyrkit

10$

Lyrkit

20$

Lyrkit

和/或在社交方面支持我。网络:


Lyrkit YouTube Lyrkit Instagram Lyrkit Facebook
Phil Ochs

The Party

 

The Party

(专辑: Pleasures Of The Harbor - 1967)


The fire-breathing rebels arrive at the party early
Their khaki coats are hung in the closet near the fur
Asking handouts from the ladies, while they criticize the lords
Boasting of the murder of the very hands that pour
And the victims learn to giggle, for at least they are not bored
And my shoulders had to shrug
As I crawl beneath the rug
And retune my piano

The hostess is enormous, she fills the room with perfume
She meets the guests and smothers them with greetings
And she asks "how are you" as she offers them a drink
The countess of the social grace, who never seems to blink
And she promises to talk to you, if you promise not to think
And my shoulders had to shrug, as I crawled beneath the rug
And retune my piano

The beauty of the hour is blazing in the present
She surrounds herself with those who would surrender
Floating in her flattery she's a trophy-prize, caressed
Protected by a pretty face, sometimes cursed, sometimes blessed
And she's staring down their desires, while they're staring down her dress
And my shoulders had to shrug
As I crawl beneath the rug
And retune my piano

The egos shine like lightbulbs, so bright you cannot see them
Blind each other blinder than a sandbox
All the fury of an argument, holding back their yawns
A challenge shakes the chandliers, the selfish swords are drawn
To the loser go the hangups, to the victor go the hangers on
And my shoulders had to shrug
As I crawl beneath the rug
And retune my piano

They travel to the table, the host is served for supper
And they pass each other down for salt and pepper
And the conversation sparkles as their wits are dipped in wine
Dinosaurs on a diet, on each other they will dine
Then they pick their teeth and they squelch a belch saying
"Darling you tasted divine"
And my shoulders had to shrug
As I crawl beneath the rug
And retune my piano

The wallflower is waiting, she hides behind composure
She'd love to dance and prays that no one asks her
Then she steals a glance at lovers while her fingers tease her hair
And she marvels at the confidence of those who hide their fears
Then her eyes are closed as she rides away with a foreign legionaire
And my shoulders had to shrug
As I crawl beneath the rug
And retune my piano

Romeo is reeling, counting notches on his thighbone
Searching for one hundred and eleven
And he's charming as a cherub as he leads you to his web
Seducing queens and gypsy girls in the boudoir of his head
Then he wraps himself with a tablecloth and pretends he is a bed
And my shoulders had to shrug
As I crawl beneath the rug
And retune my piano

The party must be over, even the losers are leaving
But just one doubt is nagging at my caustic mind
So I snuck up close behind me and I gave myself a kiss
And I led myself to the mirror to expose what I had missed
There I saw a laughing maniac who was writing songs like this
And my shoulders had to shrug
As I crawl beneath the rug
And retune my piano

完毕

你已经把这首歌里所有不熟悉的词添加了吗?