| Song | Lightly Noise |
| Artist | Halifax Pier |
| Album | Put Your Gloves on and Wave |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Halifax Pier | |
| Oh lighter noise | |
| Smoke, still | |
| The air is thick and heavy with longing | |
| The rythmn in our steps | |
| The thumping in our breasts | |
| The vaulted ceilings amplify an echo | |
| The movement isn't music | |
| A tender fleeting sound | |
| A fragile noise in an aurora of life | |
| And we don't keep the beat | |
| And barely step in time | |
| And soon the organ grinder keeps us dancing | |
| The rising city signs | |
| They linger then they're gone | |
| And no-one says a word any more | |
| A murmur in the air | |
| A secret voice at once | |
| Will speak now, for everyone | |
| For every chord we strike | |
| For every note we sing | |
| Rings hollow like a dying breath | |
| Raise your voices high | |
| From valleys to the mountains | |
| Where every aching stone returns your sigh | |
| At once | |
| Sing a song | |
| We'll sing along | |
| Sing for a long, long time |
| zuo qu : Halifax Pier | |
| Oh lighter noise | |
| Smoke, still | |
| The air is thick and heavy with longing | |
| The rythmn in our steps | |
| The thumping in our breasts | |
| The vaulted ceilings amplify an echo | |
| The movement isn' t music | |
| A tender fleeting sound | |
| A fragile noise in an aurora of life | |
| And we don' t keep the beat | |
| And barely step in time | |
| And soon the organ grinder keeps us dancing | |
| The rising city signs | |
| They linger then they' re gone | |
| And noone says a word any more | |
| A murmur in the air | |
| A secret voice at once | |
| Will speak now, for everyone | |
| For every chord we strike | |
| For every note we sing | |
| Rings hollow like a dying breath | |
| Raise your voices high | |
| From valleys to the mountains | |
| Where every aching stone returns your sigh | |
| At once | |
| Sing a song | |
| We' ll sing along | |
| Sing for a long, long time |
| zuò qǔ : Halifax Pier | |
| Oh lighter noise | |
| Smoke, still | |
| The air is thick and heavy with longing | |
| The rythmn in our steps | |
| The thumping in our breasts | |
| The vaulted ceilings amplify an echo | |
| The movement isn' t music | |
| A tender fleeting sound | |
| A fragile noise in an aurora of life | |
| And we don' t keep the beat | |
| And barely step in time | |
| And soon the organ grinder keeps us dancing | |
| The rising city signs | |
| They linger then they' re gone | |
| And noone says a word any more | |
| A murmur in the air | |
| A secret voice at once | |
| Will speak now, for everyone | |
| For every chord we strike | |
| For every note we sing | |
| Rings hollow like a dying breath | |
| Raise your voices high | |
| From valleys to the mountains | |
| Where every aching stone returns your sigh | |
| At once | |
| Sing a song | |
| We' ll sing along | |
| Sing for a long, long time |