| Song | The Game, Pts. 1-5 |
| Artist | Roy Harper |
| Album | HQ |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Harper | |
| There's an owl in the valley fixing his prey | |
| He's not counting the tally | |
| It's down to what comes up before the day | |
| And the trees in the orchard were taken from a narrow view of time | |
| Where the minds of the tortured perpetuated patron saints of crime | |
| Oh civilisation. | |
| I can fit into your puzzle but it's hardly, hardly ever a hold | |
| And I'll tell you, yeah yeah, tell you the trouble | |
| The habits I've got are more than 10.000 years old | |
| And we cannot sell our souls to learning morals | |
| Big brother is no place for us to slide | |
| We cannot live by numbers or on laurels | |
| And hardly on how far from death we hide. | |
| And it's not a case of rampant paranoia | |
| But just an age I'd love to see unborn | |
| Not that I'd be missing playing Goya | |
| More like I feel awkward passing on | |
| Civilisation, civilisation down to my children | |
| Without a question. | |
| While the prophets of freedom, battery farming brains for narrow minds | |
| Have decided, yes they decided that meaning is far beyond the lives they left behind | |
| As two thirds of the population dine | |
| On scraps in shadow lengthening with time | |
| While propaganda spreads the same old theme | |
| You is me and we can change the game, bullshit. | |
| Oh but how many times have we written these lines | |
| And delivered these signs and not made it happen | |
| Walking the tightrope of taking our head off | |
| Losing the rhythm, idealising and all criticising | |
| And not realising that we've changed and left and we've gone. | |
| And sad to be leaving the things we believe in but time has a way and we fly | |
| The next age is born and the old hands are gone and done in the wink of an eye | |
| No point in passing bad reason good guessing, no time for massing much more than can flourish with love. | |
| And right now, my darling, I'm lying here dreaming of feeling, no daylight between us | |
| So wherever you are and whenever I'm there is someplace we've got to be ours | |
| Can we right-heartedly stand in this light and see what might turn out to be crazy enough, enough to be we ? | |
| When we've had a past sad enough to last for sometime into the future | |
| These storms have torn and true love is alone and the past is almost a failure | |
| Consciences burn in the programme turn, computing the social behaviour | |
| But yoke revolts, the foundation bolts and cries for yet another saviour. | |
| And I'd pack my things on a pair of wings and tomorrow I'd be parting | |
| With the summer birds and the winter herds for a place to face a new heart in | |
| But it makes no difference, where I am I'm in the game first hand | |
| There are no certain answers and no time to understand | |
| The rules are set to paradox, coercion and blind faith | |
| The goal's a changing paradise, a moment out of date | |
| The dream is righteous grandeur fit to flood the universe | |
| The fact is more than meets the eye but less than runs the earth, running the earth. | |
| And the prisoner of the present paces up and down inside his cell | |
| He's the living replacement, somersaulting from this psychic well | |
| Screaming : 'I'm the sponsor of a hell' | |
| Voices like the sea inside a shell | |
| Telling me I cannot stake a claim | |
| Possession is a clue but not the game | |
| So please leave this world as clean as when you came. | |
| So please leave this world as clean as when you came | |
| Please leave this world as clean as when you came | |
| Please leave this world as clean as when you came | |
| Please leave this world as clean as when you came. |
| zuo ci : Harper | |
| There' s an owl in the valley fixing his prey | |
| He' s not counting the tally | |
| It' s down to what comes up before the day | |
| And the trees in the orchard were taken from a narrow view of time | |
| Where the minds of the tortured perpetuated patron saints of crime | |
| Oh civilisation. | |
| I can fit into your puzzle but it' s hardly, hardly ever a hold | |
| And I' ll tell you, yeah yeah, tell you the trouble | |
| The habits I' ve got are more than 10. 000 years old | |
| And we cannot sell our souls to learning morals | |
| Big brother is no place for us to slide | |
| We cannot live by numbers or on laurels | |
| And hardly on how far from death we hide. | |
| And it' s not a case of rampant paranoia | |
| But just an age I' d love to see unborn | |
| Not that I' d be missing playing Goya | |
| More like I feel awkward passing on | |
| Civilisation, civilisation down to my children | |
| Without a question. | |
| While the prophets of freedom, battery farming brains for narrow minds | |
| Have decided, yes they decided that meaning is far beyond the lives they left behind | |
| As two thirds of the population dine | |
| On scraps in shadow lengthening with time | |
| While propaganda spreads the same old theme | |
| You is me and we can change the game, bullshit. | |
| Oh but how many times have we written these lines | |
| And delivered these signs and not made it happen | |
| Walking the tightrope of taking our head off | |
| Losing the rhythm, idealising and all criticising | |
| And not realising that we' ve changed and left and we' ve gone. | |
| And sad to be leaving the things we believe in but time has a way and we fly | |
| The next age is born and the old hands are gone and done in the wink of an eye | |
| No point in passing bad reason good guessing, no time for massing much more than can flourish with love. | |
| And right now, my darling, I' m lying here dreaming of feeling, no daylight between us | |
| So wherever you are and whenever I' m there is someplace we' ve got to be ours | |
| Can we rightheartedly stand in this light and see what might turn out to be crazy enough, enough to be we ? | |
| When we' ve had a past sad enough to last for sometime into the future | |
| These storms have torn and true love is alone and the past is almost a failure | |
| Consciences burn in the programme turn, computing the social behaviour | |
| But yoke revolts, the foundation bolts and cries for yet another saviour. | |
| And I' d pack my things on a pair of wings and tomorrow I' d be parting | |
| With the summer birds and the winter herds for a place to face a new heart in | |
| But it makes no difference, where I am I' m in the game first hand | |
| There are no certain answers and no time to understand | |
| The rules are set to paradox, coercion and blind faith | |
| The goal' s a changing paradise, a moment out of date | |
| The dream is righteous grandeur fit to flood the universe | |
| The fact is more than meets the eye but less than runs the earth, running the earth. | |
| And the prisoner of the present paces up and down inside his cell | |
| He' s the living replacement, somersaulting from this psychic well | |
| Screaming : ' I' m the sponsor of a hell' | |
| Voices like the sea inside a shell | |
| Telling me I cannot stake a claim | |
| Possession is a clue but not the game | |
| So please leave this world as clean as when you came. | |
| So please leave this world as clean as when you came | |
| Please leave this world as clean as when you came | |
| Please leave this world as clean as when you came | |
| Please leave this world as clean as when you came. |
| zuò cí : Harper | |
| There' s an owl in the valley fixing his prey | |
| He' s not counting the tally | |
| It' s down to what comes up before the day | |
| And the trees in the orchard were taken from a narrow view of time | |
| Where the minds of the tortured perpetuated patron saints of crime | |
| Oh civilisation. | |
| I can fit into your puzzle but it' s hardly, hardly ever a hold | |
| And I' ll tell you, yeah yeah, tell you the trouble | |
| The habits I' ve got are more than 10. 000 years old | |
| And we cannot sell our souls to learning morals | |
| Big brother is no place for us to slide | |
| We cannot live by numbers or on laurels | |
| And hardly on how far from death we hide. | |
| And it' s not a case of rampant paranoia | |
| But just an age I' d love to see unborn | |
| Not that I' d be missing playing Goya | |
| More like I feel awkward passing on | |
| Civilisation, civilisation down to my children | |
| Without a question. | |
| While the prophets of freedom, battery farming brains for narrow minds | |
| Have decided, yes they decided that meaning is far beyond the lives they left behind | |
| As two thirds of the population dine | |
| On scraps in shadow lengthening with time | |
| While propaganda spreads the same old theme | |
| You is me and we can change the game, bullshit. | |
| Oh but how many times have we written these lines | |
| And delivered these signs and not made it happen | |
| Walking the tightrope of taking our head off | |
| Losing the rhythm, idealising and all criticising | |
| And not realising that we' ve changed and left and we' ve gone. | |
| And sad to be leaving the things we believe in but time has a way and we fly | |
| The next age is born and the old hands are gone and done in the wink of an eye | |
| No point in passing bad reason good guessing, no time for massing much more than can flourish with love. | |
| And right now, my darling, I' m lying here dreaming of feeling, no daylight between us | |
| So wherever you are and whenever I' m there is someplace we' ve got to be ours | |
| Can we rightheartedly stand in this light and see what might turn out to be crazy enough, enough to be we ? | |
| When we' ve had a past sad enough to last for sometime into the future | |
| These storms have torn and true love is alone and the past is almost a failure | |
| Consciences burn in the programme turn, computing the social behaviour | |
| But yoke revolts, the foundation bolts and cries for yet another saviour. | |
| And I' d pack my things on a pair of wings and tomorrow I' d be parting | |
| With the summer birds and the winter herds for a place to face a new heart in | |
| But it makes no difference, where I am I' m in the game first hand | |
| There are no certain answers and no time to understand | |
| The rules are set to paradox, coercion and blind faith | |
| The goal' s a changing paradise, a moment out of date | |
| The dream is righteous grandeur fit to flood the universe | |
| The fact is more than meets the eye but less than runs the earth, running the earth. | |
| And the prisoner of the present paces up and down inside his cell | |
| He' s the living replacement, somersaulting from this psychic well | |
| Screaming : ' I' m the sponsor of a hell' | |
| Voices like the sea inside a shell | |
| Telling me I cannot stake a claim | |
| Possession is a clue but not the game | |
| So please leave this world as clean as when you came. | |
| So please leave this world as clean as when you came | |
| Please leave this world as clean as when you came | |
| Please leave this world as clean as when you came | |
| Please leave this world as clean as when you came. |