| 作曲 : Fog | |
| A three-piece suit on me, | |
| A tutu on you. | |
| In an empty airplane hangar | |
| At a table for two. | |
| A pregnant pause. | |
| A thought exhaled. | |
| In the jowls of the work-week | |
| Spare me the details. | |
| And if you ever did | |
| Spy a giant squid | |
| With your lazy eye | |
| With its drooping lid | |
| We're in this together | |
| Son, your beef is mine | |
| Well, Vern sunburns himself | |
| For to peel the old him off | |
| To find the red him underneath | |
| The redder him, more raw. | |
| Scooping out his brains | |
| With a rusted grapefruit spoon | |
| Drinking his own urine | |
| In the executive washroom. | |
| And if you've ever been | |
| An unconvincing spokesman in | |
| A seminar and telling jokes | |
| Naked and forgot your notes | |
| We're in this together | |
| Son, your beef is mine. | |
| But if you ever died | |
| Or ever genuinely tried | |
| Or if you ever were denied | |
| Your relevance or sense of pride | |
| If you sputtered and you stuttered | |
| And you tied yourself in knots | |
| And under your breath you muttered | |
| Something someone else forgot | |
| And if you ever have | |
| Missed your flight to Leningrad | |
| Running down some airport stairs | |
| Semen running down your leg | |
| We're in this together | |
| Son, your beef is mine | |
| Well, who tells you to work? | |
| "The devil." | |
| Who tells you when you get a day off? | |
| "The devil." | |
| And who gives you your pay? | |
| "The damn devil." | |
| Aw, and who takes it away? | |
| "The devil." | |
| That pampered quarterback | |
| Oh, he don't know how to act | |
| Oh, he don't know how to throw | |
| I want my ****ing money back | |
| Oh, I want to think without | |
| Hearing my mind's mouth talk | |
| Be neutered and lobotomized | |
| And pushed out of a truck | |
| And if you ever were | |
| Somewhere where you never were | |
| Inside someone else's skin | |
| Stealing someone's self from him | |
| We're in this together | |
| Son, your beef is mine. | |
| Your beef is mine. | |
| Your beef is mine. | |
| Your beef is mine. |
| zuo qu : Fog | |
| A threepiece suit on me, | |
| A tutu on you. | |
| In an empty airplane hangar | |
| At a table for two. | |
| A pregnant pause. | |
| A thought exhaled. | |
| In the jowls of the workweek | |
| Spare me the details. | |
| And if you ever did | |
| Spy a giant squid | |
| With your lazy eye | |
| With its drooping lid | |
| We' re in this together | |
| Son, your beef is mine | |
| Well, Vern sunburns himself | |
| For to peel the old him off | |
| To find the red him underneath | |
| The redder him, more raw. | |
| Scooping out his brains | |
| With a rusted grapefruit spoon | |
| Drinking his own urine | |
| In the executive washroom. | |
| And if you' ve ever been | |
| An unconvincing spokesman in | |
| A seminar and telling jokes | |
| Naked and forgot your notes | |
| We' re in this together | |
| Son, your beef is mine. | |
| But if you ever died | |
| Or ever genuinely tried | |
| Or if you ever were denied | |
| Your relevance or sense of pride | |
| If you sputtered and you stuttered | |
| And you tied yourself in knots | |
| And under your breath you muttered | |
| Something someone else forgot | |
| And if you ever have | |
| Missed your flight to Leningrad | |
| Running down some airport stairs | |
| Semen running down your leg | |
| We' re in this together | |
| Son, your beef is mine | |
| Well, who tells you to work? | |
| " The devil." | |
| Who tells you when you get a day off? | |
| " The devil." | |
| And who gives you your pay? | |
| " The damn devil." | |
| Aw, and who takes it away? | |
| " The devil." | |
| That pampered quarterback | |
| Oh, he don' t know how to act | |
| Oh, he don' t know how to throw | |
| I want my ing money back | |
| Oh, I want to think without | |
| Hearing my mind' s mouth talk | |
| Be neutered and lobotomized | |
| And pushed out of a truck | |
| And if you ever were | |
| Somewhere where you never were | |
| Inside someone else' s skin | |
| Stealing someone' s self from him | |
| We' re in this together | |
| Son, your beef is mine. | |
| Your beef is mine. | |
| Your beef is mine. | |
| Your beef is mine. |
| zuò qǔ : Fog | |
| A threepiece suit on me, | |
| A tutu on you. | |
| In an empty airplane hangar | |
| At a table for two. | |
| A pregnant pause. | |
| A thought exhaled. | |
| In the jowls of the workweek | |
| Spare me the details. | |
| And if you ever did | |
| Spy a giant squid | |
| With your lazy eye | |
| With its drooping lid | |
| We' re in this together | |
| Son, your beef is mine | |
| Well, Vern sunburns himself | |
| For to peel the old him off | |
| To find the red him underneath | |
| The redder him, more raw. | |
| Scooping out his brains | |
| With a rusted grapefruit spoon | |
| Drinking his own urine | |
| In the executive washroom. | |
| And if you' ve ever been | |
| An unconvincing spokesman in | |
| A seminar and telling jokes | |
| Naked and forgot your notes | |
| We' re in this together | |
| Son, your beef is mine. | |
| But if you ever died | |
| Or ever genuinely tried | |
| Or if you ever were denied | |
| Your relevance or sense of pride | |
| If you sputtered and you stuttered | |
| And you tied yourself in knots | |
| And under your breath you muttered | |
| Something someone else forgot | |
| And if you ever have | |
| Missed your flight to Leningrad | |
| Running down some airport stairs | |
| Semen running down your leg | |
| We' re in this together | |
| Son, your beef is mine | |
| Well, who tells you to work? | |
| " The devil." | |
| Who tells you when you get a day off? | |
| " The devil." | |
| And who gives you your pay? | |
| " The damn devil." | |
| Aw, and who takes it away? | |
| " The devil." | |
| That pampered quarterback | |
| Oh, he don' t know how to act | |
| Oh, he don' t know how to throw | |
| I want my ing money back | |
| Oh, I want to think without | |
| Hearing my mind' s mouth talk | |
| Be neutered and lobotomized | |
| And pushed out of a truck | |
| And if you ever were | |
| Somewhere where you never were | |
| Inside someone else' s skin | |
| Stealing someone' s self from him | |
| We' re in this together | |
| Son, your beef is mine. | |
| Your beef is mine. | |
| Your beef is mine. | |
| Your beef is mine. |
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