| Song | Ideas Are Like Stars |
| Artist | Mary Chapin Carpenter |
| Album | A PLACE IN THE WORLD |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Carpenter | |
| (Mary Chapin Carpenter) | |
| Today Joseph is sitting alone, with occasional nods to the waitress | |
| She tops off his cup while she's snapping her gum, making her rounds on the lunch shift | |
| Counting out coins, he leaves them arranged, in neat lines and circles and arcs | |
| She just stares at the tip that spells out her name and ideas are like stars | |
| And yesterday pedaling down 4th Avenue, between the stalls and the bookshops | |
| The sepia tones of a lost afternoon cradled a curio storefront | |
| And inside the air was thick with the past, as the dust settled onto his heart | |
| And here for a moment is every place in the world and ideas are like stars | |
| They fall from the sky, they run round your head | |
| They litter your sleep as they beckon | |
| They'd teach you to fly without wires or thread | |
| They promise if only you'd let them | |
| For the language of longing never had words, so how did you speak from your heart | |
| Yet here is a box that swears it has heard that ideas are like stars | |
| Tonight Joseph stood out in the yard, as Debussy played from the kitchen | |
| Celestial companions 'til mornings first lark, shone overhead and he listened | |
| And who was that shadow there by the gate, who was that there standing guard | |
| It was only loneliness, and loneliness waits, and ideas are like stars | |
| Ideas are like stars |
| zuo ci : Carpenter | |
| Mary Chapin Carpenter | |
| Today Joseph is sitting alone, with occasional nods to the waitress | |
| She tops off his cup while she' s snapping her gum, making her rounds on the lunch shift | |
| Counting out coins, he leaves them arranged, in neat lines and circles and arcs | |
| She just stares at the tip that spells out her name and ideas are like stars | |
| And yesterday pedaling down 4th Avenue, between the stalls and the bookshops | |
| The sepia tones of a lost afternoon cradled a curio storefront | |
| And inside the air was thick with the past, as the dust settled onto his heart | |
| And here for a moment is every place in the world and ideas are like stars | |
| They fall from the sky, they run round your head | |
| They litter your sleep as they beckon | |
| They' d teach you to fly without wires or thread | |
| They promise if only you' d let them | |
| For the language of longing never had words, so how did you speak from your heart | |
| Yet here is a box that swears it has heard that ideas are like stars | |
| Tonight Joseph stood out in the yard, as Debussy played from the kitchen | |
| Celestial companions ' til mornings first lark, shone overhead and he listened | |
| And who was that shadow there by the gate, who was that there standing guard | |
| It was only loneliness, and loneliness waits, and ideas are like stars | |
| Ideas are like stars |
| zuò cí : Carpenter | |
| Mary Chapin Carpenter | |
| Today Joseph is sitting alone, with occasional nods to the waitress | |
| She tops off his cup while she' s snapping her gum, making her rounds on the lunch shift | |
| Counting out coins, he leaves them arranged, in neat lines and circles and arcs | |
| She just stares at the tip that spells out her name and ideas are like stars | |
| And yesterday pedaling down 4th Avenue, between the stalls and the bookshops | |
| The sepia tones of a lost afternoon cradled a curio storefront | |
| And inside the air was thick with the past, as the dust settled onto his heart | |
| And here for a moment is every place in the world and ideas are like stars | |
| They fall from the sky, they run round your head | |
| They litter your sleep as they beckon | |
| They' d teach you to fly without wires or thread | |
| They promise if only you' d let them | |
| For the language of longing never had words, so how did you speak from your heart | |
| Yet here is a box that swears it has heard that ideas are like stars | |
| Tonight Joseph stood out in the yard, as Debussy played from the kitchen | |
| Celestial companions ' til mornings first lark, shone overhead and he listened | |
| And who was that shadow there by the gate, who was that there standing guard | |
| It was only loneliness, and loneliness waits, and ideas are like stars | |
| Ideas are like stars |