Take A Pebble - Live - 22/6/97 Katowice, Poland Lyrics
| Song | Take A Pebble - Live - 22/6/97 Katowice, Poland |
| Artist | Emerson, Lake & Palmer |
| Album | Live In Poland |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Lake | |
| (Lake)Just take a pebble and cast it to the sea, | |
| Then watch the ripples that unfold into me, | |
| My face spill so gently into your eyes, | |
| Disturbing the waters of our lives. | |
| Shreds of our memories are lying on your grass; | |
| Wounded words of laughter are graveyards of the past. | |
| Photographs are grey and torn, scattered in your fields | |
| Letters of your mem'ries are not real. | |
| Sadness on your shoulders like a wornout overcoat | |
| In pockets creased and tattered hang the rags of your hope. | |
| The daybreak is your midnight; the colours have all died. | |
| Disturbing the waters of our lives, of our lives, of our lives, lives, | |
| Lives, lives... | |
| Of our lives. |
| zuo ci : Lake | |
| Lake Just take a pebble and cast it to the sea, | |
| Then watch the ripples that unfold into me, | |
| My face spill so gently into your eyes, | |
| Disturbing the waters of our lives. | |
| Shreds of our memories are lying on your grass | |
| Wounded words of laughter are graveyards of the past. | |
| Photographs are grey and torn, scattered in your fields | |
| Letters of your mem' ries are not real. | |
| Sadness on your shoulders like a wornout overcoat | |
| In pockets creased and tattered hang the rags of your hope. | |
| The daybreak is your midnight the colours have all died. | |
| Disturbing the waters of our lives, of our lives, of our lives, lives, | |
| Lives, lives... | |
| Of our lives. |
| zuò cí : Lake | |
| Lake Just take a pebble and cast it to the sea, | |
| Then watch the ripples that unfold into me, | |
| My face spill so gently into your eyes, | |
| Disturbing the waters of our lives. | |
| Shreds of our memories are lying on your grass | |
| Wounded words of laughter are graveyards of the past. | |
| Photographs are grey and torn, scattered in your fields | |
| Letters of your mem' ries are not real. | |
| Sadness on your shoulders like a wornout overcoat | |
| In pockets creased and tattered hang the rags of your hope. | |
| The daybreak is your midnight the colours have all died. | |
| Disturbing the waters of our lives, of our lives, of our lives, lives, | |
| Lives, lives... | |
| Of our lives. |
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