Judy Collins - DRESS REHEARSAL RAG, with lyrics3 f" \, D" s' ~
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Four o'clock in the afternoon , j: q) \, t0 c+ q* ~* S( jand I didn't feel like very much. . j+ p( J/ W6 @. N" CI said to myself, "Where are you golden boy, & z( g( S8 _8 a( z Dwhere is your famous golden touch?" . d: a# q" p5 U7 M ?I thought you knew where . G% E1 J* t7 x' a$ _) Fall of the elephants lie down, 7 w; F$ ~, {5 s' D9 dI thought you were the crown prince' N5 I2 k2 b- l
of all the wheels in Ivory Town. Y1 k# t8 h. X1 A9 N0 K4 TJust take a look at your body now,2 J, s; J) W% _5 _$ ^' }
there's nothing much to save N* r/ p! \0 D+ R5 X1 E9 f7 q d3 o+ cand a bitter voice in the mirror cries,1 p: f7 ^" G! i1 t
"Hey, Prince, you need a shave.") N! U7 V' y7 k" U o9 p
Now if you can manage to get # A; p6 H, ~: Fyour trembling fingers to behave,1 ^. \$ z1 i, t$ U* D- m+ \
why don't you try unwrapping 0 V& _9 u% e h, B; u- ea stainless steel razor blade?, M* d1 q! a/ E& I7 Q& H
That's right, it's come to this, , D3 e. Q1 O' j- pyes it's come to this,( E: U. i# F* J3 g$ V
and wasn't it a long way down,7 t1 m* s% r. \, W9 L( n. z0 K
wasn't it a strange way down? ) r1 J! q0 @1 U; u7 l6 X% n7 y8 vThere's no hot water( p3 G3 c$ ]( s6 d% e/ u* J
and the cold is running thin.2 T" ~ |# `1 q4 u
Well, what do you expect from ! ?- }9 C: B/ [4 L" j1 y( x/ q0 bthe kind of places you've been living in?3 ?' I7 s, [: ]! r1 N
Don't drink from that cup, ) N, U/ H1 R( B- h' m2 I, Eit's all caked and cracked along the rim.5 Z9 K; E$ B* `( [- z: [! _5 | X6 N
That's not the electric light, my friend, - o% T$ I: _9 s# r8 ?that is your vision growing dim.: M. q( Z; q. V4 ^8 g
Cover up your face with soap, there,! N- { q- S; b$ @1 W* ]7 T
now you're Santa Claus.8 B" s8 l. G$ G0 w7 v4 R
And you've got a gift for anyone . [1 @. S7 W/ z. g/ S/ @who will give you his applause. 3 E+ @3 ?" Y$ h, `3 k: n- m/ YI thought you were a racing man, & g& ?2 @2 ?; D: \, N. N0 X: wah, but you couldn't take the pace.) g X. H, p# Q
That's a funeral in the mirror * ?! E/ A* F- {; sand it's stopping at your face.3 P0 |5 R# g2 J4 N
That's right, it's come to this,, c+ ?# t7 m8 P& H6 r
yes it's come to this, 7 d+ M3 Q' G1 S# S y8 n4 [and wasn't it a long way down, . j! \/ I8 t4 w+ Y: [- r: w% g- Xand wasn't it a strange way down? 2 ~% U, L @1 |* O) {5 q( A " k- N; Q. D; b+ G L2 V" C. [6 WOnce there was a path$ H; V: q" z `1 X% y
and a girl with chestnut hair,# o4 d B* e) A% B
and you passed the summers8 z; L! J9 H, V# l5 m
picking all of the berries that grew there;! A8 i7 f# }. ]' D; @
there were times she was a woman, 6 X% O- P1 B* v) a, Soh, there were times she was just a child,1 Q# y* J% b8 n7 i W! n
and you held her in the shadows7 v* s" [: J( [( E( }1 d( c/ M
where the raspberries grow wild. ) V, B' y/ B) K* B/ T/ L8 E9 NAnd you climbed the twilight mountains8 }8 b, ]; B/ {5 R
and you sang about the view,0 i+ l5 `# u6 b- L7 G+ [
and everywhere that you wandered3 G# C1 j/ r9 u, @
love seemed to go along with you. , h- m& q- m; y& RThat's a hard one to remember,& ` l3 t1 T6 ?) _9 Z* S* w" o
yes it makes you clench your fist.: M* h$ F% t( c2 \/ c z
And then the veins stand out like highways, & E2 r0 r" t) M" c. V' u$ Y$ ^all along your wrist. 9 a1 i7 Q/ \* ^8 k; @: P HAnd yes it's come to this, 4 \0 v) I. D7 N+ ~ Iit's come to this,# d$ F7 Z; O; q) ]6 r4 N
and wasn't it a long way down,' H3 ?3 ?4 v; F- b
wasn't it a strange way down? ( A! ]4 n9 ^! K/ k' r & m% ~! j* ^7 E+ G0 F+ I& ?2 J9 t" ]You can still find a job, # @3 {4 N3 g0 Lgo out and talk to a friend.* U* o7 _9 N( V T5 _4 P5 P
On the back of every magazine+ E% x( O. J* j _; E
there are those coupons you can send. 8 V) \8 L1 {2 M: pWhy don't you join the Rosicrucians," O* ^; D# W" M( s: O
they can give you back your hope,; M* g& L' `5 e, W
you can find your love with diagrams" y& b& Y b1 B* X( S
on a plain brown envelope.( t/ }2 D( Y) ?( v, x# Q
But you've used up all your coupons7 s P0 O& Y3 U- E* I
except the one that seems; l* Z! k- k# E( y3 m* i- ?) Y7 _
to be written on your wrist7 I9 P( z: v. k5 w
along with several thousand dreams. ], y0 h, \& J# ^) aNow Santa Claus comes forward, % w: P3 z/ W6 E# Mthat's a razor in his mit; ) ~; k$ o, |* i! R+ f( m0 W6 E4 nand he puts on his dark glasses + U% v% S$ g% F6 Fand he shows you where to hit; 4 X( l, y" a1 J. N# R2 l4 v% land then the cameras pan,) j! L# G8 z6 K" X" V3 _& e
the stand in stunt man,/ d6 @/ M# n0 @: z* T: a }$ I
dress rehearsal rag, , n m$ v2 [; p& [; B8 ^it's just the dress rehearsal rag, . m! E3 i9 G$ Y: y' Kyou know this dress rehearsal rag, 8 w1 g/ O8 K/ T7 u6 A: ]: Q7 d/ git's just a dress rehearsal rag.
本帖最後由 天爸 於 2012-12-2 22:07 編輯 & V; w: y9 F4 Y- h( _* R) z: M1 @# V+ ^$ G% Q5 H) a! O2 `
Judy Collins - LA COLOMBE 0 E* {& H" W- E% Z6 k+ M. \! J ' h$ {) h- I! _- U! s3 ]% p5 Y - N% l2 b0 l3 @& q# k# s3 I1 N5 Y+ k* U* z6 X2 `
Why all these bugles cry% N+ t- F& U- l
These squads of young men drill 0 O% R0 h8 E1 F* O3 [! @; rTo kill and to be killed 3 A3 Q9 ~7 Q2 ~1 y4 q7 T) `7 tStood waiting by the train1 o* B" m; w( w, l) j+ {. n
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Why the orders loud and hoarse $ d3 e$ f3 i5 Z9 `3 d" U( d( [Why the engine's groaning cough' m& o* }2 D( D) i9 i& I
As it strains to drag us all$ g( q Q& @( K v+ P4 ^8 K
Into the holocaust- ?0 j2 c- m: m
! w# x Z$ H4 D% K& N; x1 o3 fWhy crowds who sing and cry 8 } x- E2 }- ^4 B1 `! |. u- iAnd shout and fling us flowers 6 q5 W& `( C+ F8 H: UAnd trade their rights for ours $ }: ~4 _5 p1 g# [7 a6 j+ m7 HTo murder and to die ' p: X) |4 J: q9 C & j3 W8 {3 u+ X) C# g[Chorus:] 2 Z$ n7 L0 h# GThe dove has torn her wing7 ~- @2 J; C2 q& m, h3 w! ]' u
So no more songs of love ; ?; q# w U- S4 Y5 _3 AWe are not here to sing - d8 F( A. H/ gWe're here to kill the dove. t2 n& r5 P5 ?& P1 k
' P6 t& `2 ~, kWhy must this moment come2 R. [& D/ m. ?- l
When childhood has to die' K3 m) z0 I+ L2 N I# t6 J
When hope shrinks to a sigh/ |% Z& ]# K5 c; i
And speech into a drum - ]% `9 H6 Q; k, n3 N 3 v s% F5 N+ z X' q/ tWhy are they pale and still& O! a5 T' ~' m
Young boys trained over night 3 p! \) L0 G" KConscripts payed to kill' D M! Y4 X& [- u" q
And dressed in gray to fight& U9 L+ A5 B" A! l+ x: a8 L
, w% j* `0 v9 [5 R. V' \4 O; E! eThese rainclouds massing tight . c) `) N4 r% ?" l2 l% v& eThis train load battle bound ( }7 c8 y$ x5 e9 LThis moving burial ground. l+ v8 a3 e9 a% }( I
Goes thundering to the night+ M5 \3 h* a# C, P, J$ o% I' g6 U9 X
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The dove has torn her wing" k! j1 t/ `3 [ M/ d
So no more songs of love , m. v3 S% m2 PWe are not here to sing( m: W4 O0 ~" G3 v
We're here to kill the dove 0 [' \. l* J) h9 @. p F; t ]( ], @2 E$ a, G8 }) d% \6 C
Why statues towering grave9 p# I% F7 G( Y
Above the last defeat' w* R1 l- t# Y) j! f
Old words and lies repeat$ f8 A ~9 ^" K3 h; A
Across a new made grave + V; V" E9 t! y# s4 b# x+ n 3 Y* M0 c( ^- L& EAnd why the same still birds; n, ]; ^) e, I/ B7 z1 a' {
That victory always brought6 L! Y8 G1 P* [! x+ j: K
These hours of glory bought1 ?( f; a/ A1 j
By men with mounds of earth 4 I: y( Z" _! D0 s1 d. H 1 b8 c* ~. x0 T6 n- lDead ash without a spark 3 D: u% l, W: H3 i4 tWhere cities used to be- T+ R1 X3 I! T; S
Where guns probe every spark ( k) H- ~ l, h$ H: |- EAnd crush it into dust ' P/ s; k+ k$ m. c( a8 z" e6 L$ o9 H+ R5 l1 S7 G
[Chorus]) u* k4 q% O$ p
The dove has torn her wing 8 \/ c4 v( o2 E8 VSo no more songs of love2 a7 n, j: u- o0 h+ P K
We are not here to sing; \5 y, P r! A% p
We're here to kill the dove A0 T& H8 U0 E8 ^
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And while your face undone # ]% I ~ \, ^( f. L+ c+ E! _! IWith jagged lines of tears$ w2 _8 M& O9 \# _+ P
That gave in those first years 2 O9 }' S) ?& J oAll the peace I'd ever want8 H/ C0 P" J/ i) t
/ l5 Y) S4 R" L' L3 ?Your body in the gloom & Z* V: C" q8 f% w3 {8 L( p: UThe platform fading back8 \8 [3 t% b6 i4 X
Your shadow on the track 9 G- Y4 z8 j3 Q0 qA flower upon a tomb 2 k) k; L# U6 q5 Z5 K ! X$ f X: J8 O) G4 CAnd why these days ahead- b! E& ~6 L0 [: X& ^
When I must let you cry ) p" |" A: Q; K! c* O; l) u3 c6 d1 ?0 OAnd live prepared to die u: R0 r) h5 e
As if our love were dead 1 ?. \: W9 G4 ?8 ^) o* W5 z' e8 }9 E; x- w' R
[Chorus] 8 g. \% ^5 V& G2 QThe dove has torn her wing2 p. P# A ^6 K$ B/ L; X$ P
So no more songs of love / a( M5 y5 w% s$ P; AWe are not here to sing , \4 ~ p) c9 P( e. E! [, eWe're here to kill the dove