Morning Story - Live Lyrics
| Song | Morning Story - Live |
| Artist | Jack Bruce |
| Album | Live At Manchester Free Trade Hall 1975 |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Bruce | |
| Running, jumping, pushing its way | |
| Mornings nighttime blends into day | |
| Can't find curtains to shut it away | |
| We were alone in the hills of the night | |
| Now the neon dawn lets in the light | |
| And the milkman that nobody knows | |
| Leaves bottles of tears | |
| At the house full of laughter | |
| Nobody ever hears | |
| O the grass is burned black | |
| By the ships coming back from the stars, golden stars | |
| Seas turned to steam | |
| When we boiled the dream of tomorrow, tomorrow | |
| When it gets light | |
| Some of them always stay | |
| She's dressed in white | |
| Till the smoke turns her grey | |
| Falling, stumbling, feeling its way | |
| Mornings nighttime moves into day | |
| Can't find warmth to keep it away | |
| Used to be alone on the waves of cloud | |
| Now the flotsam dawn brings in the crowd | |
| And the angel who sits in her car | |
| Full of desire | |
| But the hoses who came from the town | |
| Put out her fire | |
| O the seas have run dry | |
| And the sun's one good eye is too blind to see | |
| Sky has gone bad | |
| From the good times we had burning bright, such good times | |
| When it gets light | |
| Some of them always stay | |
| She's dressed in white | |
| Till the smoke turns her grey |
| zuo ci : Bruce | |
| Running, jumping, pushing its way | |
| Mornings nighttime blends into day | |
| Can' t find curtains to shut it away | |
| We were alone in the hills of the night | |
| Now the neon dawn lets in the light | |
| And the milkman that nobody knows | |
| Leaves bottles of tears | |
| At the house full of laughter | |
| Nobody ever hears | |
| O the grass is burned black | |
| By the ships coming back from the stars, golden stars | |
| Seas turned to steam | |
| When we boiled the dream of tomorrow, tomorrow | |
| When it gets light | |
| Some of them always stay | |
| She' s dressed in white | |
| Till the smoke turns her grey | |
| Falling, stumbling, feeling its way | |
| Mornings nighttime moves into day | |
| Can' t find warmth to keep it away | |
| Used to be alone on the waves of cloud | |
| Now the flotsam dawn brings in the crowd | |
| And the angel who sits in her car | |
| Full of desire | |
| But the hoses who came from the town | |
| Put out her fire | |
| O the seas have run dry | |
| And the sun' s one good eye is too blind to see | |
| Sky has gone bad | |
| From the good times we had burning bright, such good times | |
| When it gets light | |
| Some of them always stay | |
| She' s dressed in white | |
| Till the smoke turns her grey |
| zuò cí : Bruce | |
| Running, jumping, pushing its way | |
| Mornings nighttime blends into day | |
| Can' t find curtains to shut it away | |
| We were alone in the hills of the night | |
| Now the neon dawn lets in the light | |
| And the milkman that nobody knows | |
| Leaves bottles of tears | |
| At the house full of laughter | |
| Nobody ever hears | |
| O the grass is burned black | |
| By the ships coming back from the stars, golden stars | |
| Seas turned to steam | |
| When we boiled the dream of tomorrow, tomorrow | |
| When it gets light | |
| Some of them always stay | |
| She' s dressed in white | |
| Till the smoke turns her grey | |
| Falling, stumbling, feeling its way | |
| Mornings nighttime moves into day | |
| Can' t find warmth to keep it away | |
| Used to be alone on the waves of cloud | |
| Now the flotsam dawn brings in the crowd | |
| And the angel who sits in her car | |
| Full of desire | |
| But the hoses who came from the town | |
| Put out her fire | |
| O the seas have run dry | |
| And the sun' s one good eye is too blind to see | |
| Sky has gone bad | |
| From the good times we had burning bright, such good times | |
| When it gets light | |
| Some of them always stay | |
| She' s dressed in white | |
| Till the smoke turns her grey |
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