Lost In The Flood - Live at Madison Square Garden Lyrics
| Song | Lost In The Flood - Live at Madison Square Garden |
| Artist | Bruce Springsteen |
| Album | Live in New York City |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| [00:00.00] | 作词 : Springsteen |
| [00:55.64] | The ragamuffin gunner is returnin' home like a hungry runaway |
| [01:03.05] | He walks through town all alone |
| [01:06.08] | "He must be from the fort," he hears the high school girls say |
| [01:11.02] | His countryside's burnin' with wolfman fairies dressed in drag for homicide |
| [01:19.07] | The hit-and-run plead sanctuary, 'neath a holy stone they hide |
| [01:27.04] | They're breakin' beams and crosses with a spastic's reelin' perfection |
| [01:34.98] | Nuns run bald through Vatican halls, pregnant, pleadin' immaculate conception |
| [01:42.84] | And everybody's wrecked on Main Street from drinking unholy blood |
| [01:50.81] | Sticker smiles sweet as Gunner breathes deep, his ankles caked in mud |
| [02:00.11] | And I said, "Hey, gunner man, that's qucksand, that's quicksand, that ain't mud |
| [02:08.47] | Have you thrown your senses to the war, or did you lose them in the flood?" |
| [02:18.94] | That pure American brother, dull-eyed and empty-faced |
| [02:27.01] | Races Sundays in Jersey in a Chevy stock super eight |
| [02:34.40] | He rides 'er low on the hip, on the side he's got "Bound for Glory" in red, white and blue flash paint |
| [02:42.66] | He leans on the hood telling racing stories, the kids call him Jimmy the Saint |
| [02:55.28] | Well, that blaze-and-noise boy, he's gunnin' that bitch loaded to blastin' point |
| [03:03.35] | He rides head first into a hurricane and disappears into a point |
| [03:10.69] | And there's nothin' left but some blood where the body fell, that is, nothin' left that you could sell |
| [03:19.39] | Just junk all across the horizon, a real highwayman's farewell |
| [03:28.56] | And I said, "Hey kid, you think that's oil? Man, that ain't oil, that's blood" |
| [03:36.47] | I wonder what he was thinking when he hit that storm, or was he just lost in the flood? |
| [03:57.68] | Eighth Avenue sailors in satin shirts whisper in the air |
| [04:05.36] | Some storefront incarnation of Maria, she's puttin' on me the stare |
| [04:13.33] | And Bronx's best apostle stands with his hand on his own hardware |
| [04:21.45] | Everything stops, you hear five quick shots, the cops come up for air |
| [04:30.62] | And now the whiz-bang gang from uptown, they're shootin' up the street |
| [04:38.25] | And that cat from the Bronx starts lettin' loose, but he gets blown right off his feet |
| [04:45.72] | And some kid comes blastin' 'round the corner, but a cop puts him right away |
| [04:53.61] | He lays on the street holding his leg,screaming something in Spanish |
| [04:57.69] | Still breathing when I walked away |
| [05:02.28] | And somebody said, |
| [05:03.75] | "Hey man, did you see that? His body hit the street with such a beautiful thud" |
| [05:10.90] | I wonder what the dude was sayin', or was he just lost in the flood? |
| [05:18.64] | Hey man, did you see that, those poor cats are sure messed up |
| [05:26.19] | I wonder what they were gettin' into, or were they just lost in the flood? |
| [00:00.00] | zuo ci : Springsteen |
| [00:55.64] | The ragamuffin gunner is returnin' home like a hungry runaway |
| [01:03.05] | He walks through town all alone |
| [01:06.08] | " He must be from the fort," he hears the high school girls say |
| [01:11.02] | His countryside' s burnin' with wolfman fairies dressed in drag for homicide |
| [01:19.07] | The hitandrun plead sanctuary, ' neath a holy stone they hide |
| [01:27.04] | They' re breakin' beams and crosses with a spastic' s reelin' perfection |
| [01:34.98] | Nuns run bald through Vatican halls, pregnant, pleadin' immaculate conception |
| [01:42.84] | And everybody' s wrecked on Main Street from drinking unholy blood |
| [01:50.81] | Sticker smiles sweet as Gunner breathes deep, his ankles caked in mud |
| [02:00.11] | And I said, " Hey, gunner man, that' s qucksand, that' s quicksand, that ain' t mud |
| [02:08.47] | Have you thrown your senses to the war, or did you lose them in the flood?" |
| [02:18.94] | That pure American brother, dulleyed and emptyfaced |
| [02:27.01] | Races Sundays in Jersey in a Chevy stock super eight |
| [02:34.40] | He rides ' er low on the hip, on the side he' s got " Bound for Glory" in red, white and blue flash paint |
| [02:42.66] | He leans on the hood telling racing stories, the kids call him Jimmy the Saint |
| [02:55.28] | Well, that blazeandnoise boy, he' s gunnin' that bitch loaded to blastin' point |
| [03:03.35] | He rides head first into a hurricane and disappears into a point |
| [03:10.69] | And there' s nothin' left but some blood where the body fell, that is, nothin' left that you could sell |
| [03:19.39] | Just junk all across the horizon, a real highwayman' s farewell |
| [03:28.56] | And I said, " Hey kid, you think that' s oil? Man, that ain' t oil, that' s blood" |
| [03:36.47] | I wonder what he was thinking when he hit that storm, or was he just lost in the flood? |
| [03:57.68] | Eighth Avenue sailors in satin shirts whisper in the air |
| [04:05.36] | Some storefront incarnation of Maria, she' s puttin' on me the stare |
| [04:13.33] | And Bronx' s best apostle stands with his hand on his own hardware |
| [04:21.45] | Everything stops, you hear five quick shots, the cops come up for air |
| [04:30.62] | And now the whizbang gang from uptown, they' re shootin' up the street |
| [04:38.25] | And that cat from the Bronx starts lettin' loose, but he gets blown right off his feet |
| [04:45.72] | And some kid comes blastin' ' round the corner, but a cop puts him right away |
| [04:53.61] | He lays on the street holding his leg, screaming something in Spanish |
| [04:57.69] | Still breathing when I walked away |
| [05:02.28] | And somebody said, |
| [05:03.75] | " Hey man, did you see that? His body hit the street with such a beautiful thud" |
| [05:10.90] | I wonder what the dude was sayin', or was he just lost in the flood? |
| [05:18.64] | Hey man, did you see that, those poor cats are sure messed up |
| [05:26.19] | I wonder what they were gettin' into, or were they just lost in the flood? |
| [00:00.00] | zuò cí : Springsteen |
| [00:55.64] | The ragamuffin gunner is returnin' home like a hungry runaway |
| [01:03.05] | He walks through town all alone |
| [01:06.08] | " He must be from the fort," he hears the high school girls say |
| [01:11.02] | His countryside' s burnin' with wolfman fairies dressed in drag for homicide |
| [01:19.07] | The hitandrun plead sanctuary, ' neath a holy stone they hide |
| [01:27.04] | They' re breakin' beams and crosses with a spastic' s reelin' perfection |
| [01:34.98] | Nuns run bald through Vatican halls, pregnant, pleadin' immaculate conception |
| [01:42.84] | And everybody' s wrecked on Main Street from drinking unholy blood |
| [01:50.81] | Sticker smiles sweet as Gunner breathes deep, his ankles caked in mud |
| [02:00.11] | And I said, " Hey, gunner man, that' s qucksand, that' s quicksand, that ain' t mud |
| [02:08.47] | Have you thrown your senses to the war, or did you lose them in the flood?" |
| [02:18.94] | That pure American brother, dulleyed and emptyfaced |
| [02:27.01] | Races Sundays in Jersey in a Chevy stock super eight |
| [02:34.40] | He rides ' er low on the hip, on the side he' s got " Bound for Glory" in red, white and blue flash paint |
| [02:42.66] | He leans on the hood telling racing stories, the kids call him Jimmy the Saint |
| [02:55.28] | Well, that blazeandnoise boy, he' s gunnin' that bitch loaded to blastin' point |
| [03:03.35] | He rides head first into a hurricane and disappears into a point |
| [03:10.69] | And there' s nothin' left but some blood where the body fell, that is, nothin' left that you could sell |
| [03:19.39] | Just junk all across the horizon, a real highwayman' s farewell |
| [03:28.56] | And I said, " Hey kid, you think that' s oil? Man, that ain' t oil, that' s blood" |
| [03:36.47] | I wonder what he was thinking when he hit that storm, or was he just lost in the flood? |
| [03:57.68] | Eighth Avenue sailors in satin shirts whisper in the air |
| [04:05.36] | Some storefront incarnation of Maria, she' s puttin' on me the stare |
| [04:13.33] | And Bronx' s best apostle stands with his hand on his own hardware |
| [04:21.45] | Everything stops, you hear five quick shots, the cops come up for air |
| [04:30.62] | And now the whizbang gang from uptown, they' re shootin' up the street |
| [04:38.25] | And that cat from the Bronx starts lettin' loose, but he gets blown right off his feet |
| [04:45.72] | And some kid comes blastin' ' round the corner, but a cop puts him right away |
| [04:53.61] | He lays on the street holding his leg, screaming something in Spanish |
| [04:57.69] | Still breathing when I walked away |
| [05:02.28] | And somebody said, |
| [05:03.75] | " Hey man, did you see that? His body hit the street with such a beautiful thud" |
| [05:10.90] | I wonder what the dude was sayin', or was he just lost in the flood? |
| [05:18.64] | Hey man, did you see that, those poor cats are sure messed up |
| [05:26.19] | I wonder what they were gettin' into, or were they just lost in the flood? |
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