| Song | Sonic Wind |
| Artist | Calexico |
| Album | Scraping [live] |
| 作词 : Burns, Convertino | |
| Sonic Wind, honing in, on a tune that no one can hear | |
| perfect pitch, simple glitch, promises it would never | |
| appear | |
| in the skies (disguised) | |
| Change in direction where birds never fly nor roam | |
| lie 'neath green valleys and wait for the call to come | |
| Firetail bats, poised to attack | |
| to set ablaze the rafters and the roofs | |
| until the plan leaves the hand | |
| burns the site down to the ground | |
| through the ground | |
| Craters are carving and wounds are left to weep | |
| sink to the table filtering through the years | |
| closing behind the nightmarish fears that run deep | |
| down in green valleys wait for the call to come | |
| when it's all over and the empty quarter | |
| returns to the emptiness again | |
| 5000 miles over airplane graveyards | |
| landmass oceans wide. over continents | |
| a sonic wind honing in on a tune no one can hear | |
| perfect pitch, simple glitch, promises... | |
| over the skies - in disguise | |
| Change in direction | |
| a sonic wind is blowing | |
| and the fire it is burning | |
| down in green valleys where birds never fly nor roam | |
| over airplane graveyards, wait for the call to come | |
| and the sonic wind is whistling |
| zuò cí : Burns, Convertino | |
| Sonic Wind, honing in, on a tune that no one can hear | |
| perfect pitch, simple glitch, promises it would never | |
| appear | |
| in the skies disguised | |
| Change in direction where birds never fly nor roam | |
| lie ' neath green valleys and wait for the call to come | |
| Firetail bats, poised to attack | |
| to set ablaze the rafters and the roofs | |
| until the plan leaves the hand | |
| burns the site down to the ground | |
| through the ground | |
| Craters are carving and wounds are left to weep | |
| sink to the table filtering through the years | |
| closing behind the nightmarish fears that run deep | |
| down in green valleys wait for the call to come | |
| when it' s all over and the empty quarter | |
| returns to the emptiness again | |
| 5000 miles over airplane graveyards | |
| landmass oceans wide. over continents | |
| a sonic wind honing in on a tune no one can hear | |
| perfect pitch, simple glitch, promises... | |
| over the skies in disguise | |
| Change in direction | |
| a sonic wind is blowing | |
| and the fire it is burning | |
| down in green valleys where birds never fly nor roam | |
| over airplane graveyards, wait for the call to come | |
| and the sonic wind is whistling |