| Song | Addle Brains |
| Artist | Augie March |
| Album | Strange Bird |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Richards | |
| A Tuesday night in Winter, holed up in the city of ravens, | |
| The owls in the hills hoo-hooing and eyeing off the field mice down in the cold grey centre, | |
| Addle Brains lining up with the dead for the soup spoon, | |
| Addle Brains and the legions of the passed for the bread bag, | |
| Ladle the soup, pass the rolls, | |
| Addle Brains and the many not here and loose souls. | |
| One might fly off to the blank heavens and the lead high halls, | |
| O the hungry sky aches for blokes without folks and bulges with the bearers of palls. | |
| Addle Brains would drink for four days and no eats, | |
| and sleep in the glens of botanical parks, and on the humped bus shelter seats, | |
| Where it's cold, where it's cold. | |
| One morning I woke up in a room in the nation's heart, | |
| and couldn't think for the life of me what I was doing, or where to start, | |
| or what rehearsal was required, I was so sad and tired. | |
| What does a bird want with money? | |
| Was he made this way? | |
| Do you have to earn the right to find all of this funny? | |
| Nothing's funny today. | |
| Addle Brains mixes his powders with his fateful blues, | |
| and the wide-eyed bubs of the Parliament couldn't give a hoot, or even two. | |
| All it takes, it takes, is a kind look and a word, a word, | |
| Some pretty eyes and skin, from your fine family you were given to win, | |
| and spill it over into the basin of common sin, | |
| just a drop, a drop of the stuff that makes us kin | |
| - Addle Brains perching way out on a limb. |
| zuo qu : Richards | |
| A Tuesday night in Winter, holed up in the city of ravens, | |
| The owls in the hills hoohooing and eyeing off the field mice down in the cold grey centre, | |
| Addle Brains lining up with the dead for the soup spoon, | |
| Addle Brains and the legions of the passed for the bread bag, | |
| Ladle the soup, pass the rolls, | |
| Addle Brains and the many not here and loose souls. | |
| One might fly off to the blank heavens and the lead high halls, | |
| O the hungry sky aches for blokes without folks and bulges with the bearers of palls. | |
| Addle Brains would drink for four days and no eats, | |
| and sleep in the glens of botanical parks, and on the humped bus shelter seats, | |
| Where it' s cold, where it' s cold. | |
| One morning I woke up in a room in the nation' s heart, | |
| and couldn' t think for the life of me what I was doing, or where to start, | |
| or what rehearsal was required, I was so sad and tired. | |
| What does a bird want with money? | |
| Was he made this way? | |
| Do you have to earn the right to find all of this funny? | |
| Nothing' s funny today. | |
| Addle Brains mixes his powders with his fateful blues, | |
| and the wideeyed bubs of the Parliament couldn' t give a hoot, or even two. | |
| All it takes, it takes, is a kind look and a word, a word, | |
| Some pretty eyes and skin, from your fine family you were given to win, | |
| and spill it over into the basin of common sin, | |
| just a drop, a drop of the stuff that makes us kin | |
| Addle Brains perching way out on a limb. |
| zuò qǔ : Richards | |
| A Tuesday night in Winter, holed up in the city of ravens, | |
| The owls in the hills hoohooing and eyeing off the field mice down in the cold grey centre, | |
| Addle Brains lining up with the dead for the soup spoon, | |
| Addle Brains and the legions of the passed for the bread bag, | |
| Ladle the soup, pass the rolls, | |
| Addle Brains and the many not here and loose souls. | |
| One might fly off to the blank heavens and the lead high halls, | |
| O the hungry sky aches for blokes without folks and bulges with the bearers of palls. | |
| Addle Brains would drink for four days and no eats, | |
| and sleep in the glens of botanical parks, and on the humped bus shelter seats, | |
| Where it' s cold, where it' s cold. | |
| One morning I woke up in a room in the nation' s heart, | |
| and couldn' t think for the life of me what I was doing, or where to start, | |
| or what rehearsal was required, I was so sad and tired. | |
| What does a bird want with money? | |
| Was he made this way? | |
| Do you have to earn the right to find all of this funny? | |
| Nothing' s funny today. | |
| Addle Brains mixes his powders with his fateful blues, | |
| and the wideeyed bubs of the Parliament couldn' t give a hoot, or even two. | |
| All it takes, it takes, is a kind look and a word, a word, | |
| Some pretty eyes and skin, from your fine family you were given to win, | |
| and spill it over into the basin of common sin, | |
| just a drop, a drop of the stuff that makes us kin | |
| Addle Brains perching way out on a limb. |