| Song | Quattro (World Drifts In) |
| Artist | Calexico |
| Album | Feast of Wire |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Burns, Convertino | |
| love the run but not the race | |
| all alone in a silent way | |
| world drifts in and the world's a stranger | |
| in a light, eclipsed and alienated | |
| in a time, occupied and invaded | |
| can't tell what's right, better hit the ground running | |
| in the hills where the tall weed grows | |
| hands are tied and won't let go | |
| can't escape this place without leaving the world behind | |
| in a light, ashamed and humiliated | |
| in a time, sacrificed for the sake of trade | |
| the soul is bent, feels the weight of truth | |
| falling through | |
| left behind, no choice but to run to the mountains | |
| where no poppies grow, you have to hit the ground running | |
| in a light, paralyzed and spirits fading | |
| out of time, must decide to fall or run | |
| into the eye, of the storm no sign or omen | |
| make it right, or fall to the other side | |
| where fields are burning | |
| from the day you're born | |
| you'll always hit the ground running |
| zuo ci : Burns, Convertino | |
| love the run but not the race | |
| all alone in a silent way | |
| world drifts in and the world' s a stranger | |
| in a light, eclipsed and alienated | |
| in a time, occupied and invaded | |
| can' t tell what' s right, better hit the ground running | |
| in the hills where the tall weed grows | |
| hands are tied and won' t let go | |
| can' t escape this place without leaving the world behind | |
| in a light, ashamed and humiliated | |
| in a time, sacrificed for the sake of trade | |
| the soul is bent, feels the weight of truth | |
| falling through | |
| left behind, no choice but to run to the mountains | |
| where no poppies grow, you have to hit the ground running | |
| in a light, paralyzed and spirits fading | |
| out of time, must decide to fall or run | |
| into the eye, of the storm no sign or omen | |
| make it right, or fall to the other side | |
| where fields are burning | |
| from the day you' re born | |
| you' ll always hit the ground running |
| zuò cí : Burns, Convertino | |
| love the run but not the race | |
| all alone in a silent way | |
| world drifts in and the world' s a stranger | |
| in a light, eclipsed and alienated | |
| in a time, occupied and invaded | |
| can' t tell what' s right, better hit the ground running | |
| in the hills where the tall weed grows | |
| hands are tied and won' t let go | |
| can' t escape this place without leaving the world behind | |
| in a light, ashamed and humiliated | |
| in a time, sacrificed for the sake of trade | |
| the soul is bent, feels the weight of truth | |
| falling through | |
| left behind, no choice but to run to the mountains | |
| where no poppies grow, you have to hit the ground running | |
| in a light, paralyzed and spirits fading | |
| out of time, must decide to fall or run | |
| into the eye, of the storm no sign or omen | |
| make it right, or fall to the other side | |
| where fields are burning | |
| from the day you' re born | |
| you' ll always hit the ground running |