| Song | The True Story of What Was |
| Artist | Ani DiFranco |
| Album | Educated Guess |
| [00:00.00] | 作词 : DiFranco |
| [00:00.00] | he light blue flickering rhythm of the neighbor's big console T.V. |
| [00:04.38] | Is basking on the ceiling of another insomniac spree |
| [00:08.16] | And outside sleep's open window |
| [00:10.27] | Between the drops of rain |
| [00:12.21] | History is writing a recipe book |
| [00:14.08] | For every earthly pain |
| [00:16.78] | Oh to clean up the clutter of echoes |
| [00:18.85] | Coming in and out of focus |
| [00:20.25] | Words spoken |
| [00:21.17] | Like locusts |
| [00:21.97] | Sing and sing |
| [00:22.91] | In my head |
| [00:24.67] | And thing is |
| [00:26.11] | They often seem |
| [00:27.23] | In my memory's long dream |
| [00:29.10] | To be superfluous to the true story of what was |
| [00:34.81] | Cuz |
| [00:35.58] | Real is real regardless |
| [00:37.23] | Of what you try to say |
| [00:38.21] | Or say away |
| [00:39.62] | Real is real relentless |
| [00:41.09] | While words distract and dismay |
| [00:43.71] | Words that change their tune |
| [00:45.08] | Though the story remains the same |
| [00:47.28] | Words that fill me quickly |
| [00:48.56] | And then are slow to drain |
| [00:50.65] | Dialogues that dither down reminiscent |
| [00:52.72] | Of the way it likes to rain |
| [00:54.96] | Every screen |
| [00:55.76] | A smoke screen |
| [00:57.25] | Oh to dream |
| [00:58.70] | Just for a moment |
| [00:59.80] | The picture |
| [01:01.32] | Outside the frame |
| [01:04.13] | Then in a flash |
| [01:05.05] | The light blue horizon |
| [01:06.29] | Spanning a sudden black |
| [01:07.84] | Is sucked into the vanishing point |
| [01:09.92] | And quiet rushes back |
| [01:11.86] | To search for the downbeat |
| [01:13.18] | In a tabla symphony |
| [01:14.88] | To search in the darkness |
| [01:16.11] | For someone who looks like me |
| [01:18.93] | (Though I'm not really who I said I was or who I thought I'd be) |
| [01:25.05] | Just a collection of recollections |
| [01:26.93] | Conversations consisting |
| [01:28.45] | Of the kind of marks we make |
| [01:30.61] | When we're trying to get a pen to work again |
| [01:33.96] | A lifetime of them! |
| [01:38.10] | I say to me |
| [01:39.46] | Now here listening |
| [01:41.40] | I say to the locusts |
| [01:42.62] | That sing and sing to me sitting |
| [01:44.99] | Now here on the front porch swing of my eyes: |
| [01:48.09] | I hereby amend |
| [01:49.75] | Whatever I've ever said |
| [01:52.45] | With this sigh |
| [00:00.00] | zuò cí : DiFranco |
| [00:00.00] | he light blue flickering rhythm of the neighbor' s big console T. V. |
| [00:04.38] | Is basking on the ceiling of another insomniac spree |
| [00:08.16] | And outside sleep' s open window |
| [00:10.27] | Between the drops of rain |
| [00:12.21] | History is writing a recipe book |
| [00:14.08] | For every earthly pain |
| [00:16.78] | Oh to clean up the clutter of echoes |
| [00:18.85] | Coming in and out of focus |
| [00:20.25] | Words spoken |
| [00:21.17] | Like locusts |
| [00:21.97] | Sing and sing |
| [00:22.91] | In my head |
| [00:24.67] | And thing is |
| [00:26.11] | They often seem |
| [00:27.23] | In my memory' s long dream |
| [00:29.10] | To be superfluous to the true story of what was |
| [00:34.81] | Cuz |
| [00:35.58] | Real is real regardless |
| [00:37.23] | Of what you try to say |
| [00:38.21] | Or say away |
| [00:39.62] | Real is real relentless |
| [00:41.09] | While words distract and dismay |
| [00:43.71] | Words that change their tune |
| [00:45.08] | Though the story remains the same |
| [00:47.28] | Words that fill me quickly |
| [00:48.56] | And then are slow to drain |
| [00:50.65] | Dialogues that dither down reminiscent |
| [00:52.72] | Of the way it likes to rain |
| [00:54.96] | Every screen |
| [00:55.76] | A smoke screen |
| [00:57.25] | Oh to dream |
| [00:58.70] | Just for a moment |
| [00:59.80] | The picture |
| [01:01.32] | Outside the frame |
| [01:04.13] | Then in a flash |
| [01:05.05] | The light blue horizon |
| [01:06.29] | Spanning a sudden black |
| [01:07.84] | Is sucked into the vanishing point |
| [01:09.92] | And quiet rushes back |
| [01:11.86] | To search for the downbeat |
| [01:13.18] | In a tabla symphony |
| [01:14.88] | To search in the darkness |
| [01:16.11] | For someone who looks like me |
| [01:18.93] | Though I' m not really who I said I was or who I thought I' d be |
| [01:25.05] | Just a collection of recollections |
| [01:26.93] | Conversations consisting |
| [01:28.45] | Of the kind of marks we make |
| [01:30.61] | When we' re trying to get a pen to work again |
| [01:33.96] | A lifetime of them! |
| [01:38.10] | I say to me |
| [01:39.46] | Now here listening |
| [01:41.40] | I say to the locusts |
| [01:42.62] | That sing and sing to me sitting |
| [01:44.99] | Now here on the front porch swing of my eyes: |
| [01:48.09] | I hereby amend |
| [01:49.75] | Whatever I' ve ever said |
| [01:52.45] | With this sigh |