| Song | Tender Blindspot |
| Artist | Peter Mulvey |
| Album | Notes From Elsewhere |
| 作曲 : Mulvey | |
| It's cold, but at least the sun is out | |
| Her breath hangs glowing in the air | |
| She's standing at the car with the key in her hand | |
| Like a sleeper coming back from somewhere | |
| All at once, the weight has lifted | |
| Forgotten the weeping all last night | |
| She's wearing a frown borrowed from her father | |
| Her head is tilted a little to the right | |
| And it's just your tender blindspot | |
| Not the ruination of your soul | |
| As long as trees are skying | |
| Tears are weeping seas to make us whole | |
| Still you wonder why you're aching | |
| Why you should go on, you just don't know | |
| But it's just your tender blindspot | |
| From that tender blindspot you must go | |
| The days are short and grey | |
| It's the hardest time of year | |
| And she must have missed the roadsign that said | |
| "From now on, nothing will be clear" | |
| And the whole day is claling | |
| But she is frozen to the ground | |
| There's something in the silence | |
| There is something waiting to be found | |
| And it's just your tender blindspot | |
| Not the ruination of your soul | |
| As long as trees are skying | |
| Tears are weeping seas to make us whole | |
| Still you wonder why you're aching | |
| Why you should go on, you just don't know | |
| But it's just your tender blindspot | |
| From that tender blindspot you must go | |
| And the morning dove is clinging | |
| To the powerlines above | |
| And time is hanging fozen | |
| In its grace and pain and love |
| zuò qǔ : Mulvey | |
| It' s cold, but at least the sun is out | |
| Her breath hangs glowing in the air | |
| She' s standing at the car with the key in her hand | |
| Like a sleeper coming back from somewhere | |
| All at once, the weight has lifted | |
| Forgotten the weeping all last night | |
| She' s wearing a frown borrowed from her father | |
| Her head is tilted a little to the right | |
| And it' s just your tender blindspot | |
| Not the ruination of your soul | |
| As long as trees are skying | |
| Tears are weeping seas to make us whole | |
| Still you wonder why you' re aching | |
| Why you should go on, you just don' t know | |
| But it' s just your tender blindspot | |
| From that tender blindspot you must go | |
| The days are short and grey | |
| It' s the hardest time of year | |
| And she must have missed the roadsign that said | |
| " From now on, nothing will be clear" | |
| And the whole day is claling | |
| But she is frozen to the ground | |
| There' s something in the silence | |
| There is something waiting to be found | |
| And it' s just your tender blindspot | |
| Not the ruination of your soul | |
| As long as trees are skying | |
| Tears are weeping seas to make us whole | |
| Still you wonder why you' re aching | |
| Why you should go on, you just don' t know | |
| But it' s just your tender blindspot | |
| From that tender blindspot you must go | |
| And the morning dove is clinging | |
| To the powerlines above | |
| And time is hanging fozen | |
| In its grace and pain and love |