| Song | Justify The Thrill |
| Artist | Blues Traveler |
| Album | Straight On Till Morning |
| 作曲 : Chandler Kinchla & John Popper | |
| 作词 : Blues Traveler, Kinchla ... | |
| Break away, break away | |
| Blink on and nod | |
| Carelessly with matches play | |
| Telling you, you're odd | |
| Foolishly, he lets it burn | |
| Aware of different shapes | |
| And so he makes his hand a fist | |
| And never looks at what he rapes | |
| And who am | |
| I to say I don't understand it? | |
| And if feelin' better justifies the thrill | |
| An' who'd be stupid enough to say it doesn't have to be that way? | |
| I willSing a song of sixty pence | |
| For a pocket full of rye | |
| And kill all that you represents | |
| To ensure that he will die | |
| Chase him from the public square | |
| Or hang him from a tree | |
| And tell his kind they best beware | |
| Because he's different from me | |
| And who am | |
| I to say, | |
| I don't understand it? | |
| And if feelin' better justifies the thrill | |
| An' who'd be stupid enough to say it doesn't have to be that way? | |
| I willTwinkle, twinkle little star | |
| We have you in our sights | |
| Dangerous, we come this far | |
| The serpent giggles with delight | |
| The pigs head on a stick does grin | |
| As we teeter on the brink | |
| He's singin', you are all my children | |
| My islands bigger than you think | |
| And who am | |
| I to say I don't understand it? | |
| And if feelin' better justifies the thrill | |
| An' who'd be stupid enough to say it doesn't have to be that way? | |
| I willI will, ah | |
| I willI will |
| zuò qǔ : Chandler Kinchla John Popper | |
| zuò cí : Blues Traveler, Kinchla ... | |
| Break away, break away | |
| Blink on and nod | |
| Carelessly with matches play | |
| Telling you, you' re odd | |
| Foolishly, he lets it burn | |
| Aware of different shapes | |
| And so he makes his hand a fist | |
| And never looks at what he rapes | |
| And who am | |
| I to say I don' t understand it? | |
| And if feelin' better justifies the thrill | |
| An' who' d be stupid enough to say it doesn' t have to be that way? | |
| I willSing a song of sixty pence | |
| For a pocket full of rye | |
| And kill all that you represents | |
| To ensure that he will die | |
| Chase him from the public square | |
| Or hang him from a tree | |
| And tell his kind they best beware | |
| Because he' s different from me | |
| And who am | |
| I to say, | |
| I don' t understand it? | |
| And if feelin' better justifies the thrill | |
| An' who' d be stupid enough to say it doesn' t have to be that way? | |
| I willTwinkle, twinkle little star | |
| We have you in our sights | |
| Dangerous, we come this far | |
| The serpent giggles with delight | |
| The pigs head on a stick does grin | |
| As we teeter on the brink | |
| He' s singin', you are all my children | |
| My islands bigger than you think | |
| And who am | |
| I to say I don' t understand it? | |
| And if feelin' better justifies the thrill | |
| An' who' d be stupid enough to say it doesn' t have to be that way? | |
| I willI will, ah | |
| I willI will |