Tales of the Road Lyrics
| Song | Tales of the Road |
| Artist | Justin Sullivan |
| Album | Navigating By the Stars |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Sullivan | |
| The caravan flipped over two, three times | |
| Went spinning down the carriageway | |
| Breaking up into splinters | |
| Wheels turning around in the dust at the foot of the hill | |
| And all the old clothes, the pots and pans and the photographs | |
| The little things of those people's lives | |
| Lay strewn across the road | |
| Ch: We just want what we cannot have | |
| We've driven so far, we can never get back | |
| Sitting in the all night cafe in a curl of smoke | |
| Telling tales of the road | |
| By the glow of a flickering lighter | |
| We went stumbling forward through the corridor | |
| Up the broken stairway to the top of the trail of shattered glass | |
| Damp mattresses in the doorway, an old abandoned take-away | |
| Nothing much to tell us if and where you'd gone | |
| By now you could be miles away | |
| Ch: We just want what we cannot have | |
| We've driven so far, we can never get back | |
| Sitting in the all night cafe in a curl of smoke | |
| Telling tales of the road | |
| And everyone just keeps moving on, you turn around and find them gone | |
| The lights go out one by one, the prodigal son is not coming home | |
| Down at the Ferrybridge junction | |
| Beneath the cooling towers a man stood hitching a ride | |
| And in the long grass at the side of the road his son was laid asleep | |
| He said - nothing's left to keep us in the city where we come from | |
| Take us far away from here - looking for work and the wishing-well | |
| This afternoon the sunlight spilled shadows across the golden hills | |
| They searched us at the border but they're not looking for what we're hiding | |
| They're not looking for what we're hiding | |
| Ch: We just want what we cannot have | |
| We've driven so far, we can never get back | |
| Sitting in the all night cafe in a curl of smoke | |
| Telling tales of the road |
| zuo qu : Sullivan | |
| The caravan flipped over two, three times | |
| Went spinning down the carriageway | |
| Breaking up into splinters | |
| Wheels turning around in the dust at the foot of the hill | |
| And all the old clothes, the pots and pans and the photographs | |
| The little things of those people' s lives | |
| Lay strewn across the road | |
| Ch: We just want what we cannot have | |
| We' ve driven so far, we can never get back | |
| Sitting in the all night cafe in a curl of smoke | |
| Telling tales of the road | |
| By the glow of a flickering lighter | |
| We went stumbling forward through the corridor | |
| Up the broken stairway to the top of the trail of shattered glass | |
| Damp mattresses in the doorway, an old abandoned takeaway | |
| Nothing much to tell us if and where you' d gone | |
| By now you could be miles away | |
| Ch: We just want what we cannot have | |
| We' ve driven so far, we can never get back | |
| Sitting in the all night cafe in a curl of smoke | |
| Telling tales of the road | |
| And everyone just keeps moving on, you turn around and find them gone | |
| The lights go out one by one, the prodigal son is not coming home | |
| Down at the Ferrybridge junction | |
| Beneath the cooling towers a man stood hitching a ride | |
| And in the long grass at the side of the road his son was laid asleep | |
| He said nothing' s left to keep us in the city where we come from | |
| Take us far away from here looking for work and the wishingwell | |
| This afternoon the sunlight spilled shadows across the golden hills | |
| They searched us at the border but they' re not looking for what we' re hiding | |
| They' re not looking for what we' re hiding | |
| Ch: We just want what we cannot have | |
| We' ve driven so far, we can never get back | |
| Sitting in the all night cafe in a curl of smoke | |
| Telling tales of the road |
| zuò qǔ : Sullivan | |
| The caravan flipped over two, three times | |
| Went spinning down the carriageway | |
| Breaking up into splinters | |
| Wheels turning around in the dust at the foot of the hill | |
| And all the old clothes, the pots and pans and the photographs | |
| The little things of those people' s lives | |
| Lay strewn across the road | |
| Ch: We just want what we cannot have | |
| We' ve driven so far, we can never get back | |
| Sitting in the all night cafe in a curl of smoke | |
| Telling tales of the road | |
| By the glow of a flickering lighter | |
| We went stumbling forward through the corridor | |
| Up the broken stairway to the top of the trail of shattered glass | |
| Damp mattresses in the doorway, an old abandoned takeaway | |
| Nothing much to tell us if and where you' d gone | |
| By now you could be miles away | |
| Ch: We just want what we cannot have | |
| We' ve driven so far, we can never get back | |
| Sitting in the all night cafe in a curl of smoke | |
| Telling tales of the road | |
| And everyone just keeps moving on, you turn around and find them gone | |
| The lights go out one by one, the prodigal son is not coming home | |
| Down at the Ferrybridge junction | |
| Beneath the cooling towers a man stood hitching a ride | |
| And in the long grass at the side of the road his son was laid asleep | |
| He said nothing' s left to keep us in the city where we come from | |
| Take us far away from here looking for work and the wishingwell | |
| This afternoon the sunlight spilled shadows across the golden hills | |
| They searched us at the border but they' re not looking for what we' re hiding | |
| They' re not looking for what we' re hiding | |
| Ch: We just want what we cannot have | |
| We' ve driven so far, we can never get back | |
| Sitting in the all night cafe in a curl of smoke | |
| Telling tales of the road |
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