| Song | Wicked Windows |
| Artist | Jethro Tull |
| Album | J-Tull Dot Com |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Anderson | |
| I review my past through wicked windows framed in silver | |
| And hung in toughened glass, upon my face, around and over. | |
| Now and then:memories of men who loved me. | |
| No stolen kiss - could match their march on hot coals for me. | |
| I have walked a line both faint and narrow, hard to follow. | |
| Caught up in circumstance. harsh truth for history to mellow. | |
| Through my eyes: loyalties and obligation | |
| Magnified. obedience: the better fellow. | |
| Better not remember me. don't mis my passing. | |
| Fierce winter fails to ruffle my icy sleep. | |
| We never quite vanish. no wet soft surrender. | |
| Still waiting: bad blood running in close families. | |
| I laughed like any child - although you might find that strange | |
| And christmas was my favourite holiday. | |
| Christmas was my favourite holiday. | |
| I am not alone in seeing the world through wicked windows | |
| While others hide likewiese behind this vulnerable squinting. | |
| It's in the stare: it's in the silent scrutinizing. | |
| Strip you bare: i ofer you no more disguising. | |
| Better not remember me. don't miss my passing. | |
| Fierce winter fails to ruffle my icy sleep. | |
| We never quite vanish. no wet soft surrender. | |
| Same bad blood running in new families. |
| zuo ci : Anderson | |
| I review my past through wicked windows framed in silver | |
| And hung in toughened glass, upon my face, around and over. | |
| Now and then: memories of men who loved me. | |
| No stolen kiss could match their march on hot coals for me. | |
| I have walked a line both faint and narrow, hard to follow. | |
| Caught up in circumstance. harsh truth for history to mellow. | |
| Through my eyes: loyalties and obligation | |
| Magnified. obedience: the better fellow. | |
| Better not remember me. don' t mis my passing. | |
| Fierce winter fails to ruffle my icy sleep. | |
| We never quite vanish. no wet soft surrender. | |
| Still waiting: bad blood running in close families. | |
| I laughed like any child although you might find that strange | |
| And christmas was my favourite holiday. | |
| Christmas was my favourite holiday. | |
| I am not alone in seeing the world through wicked windows | |
| While others hide likewiese behind this vulnerable squinting. | |
| It' s in the stare: it' s in the silent scrutinizing. | |
| Strip you bare: i ofer you no more disguising. | |
| Better not remember me. don' t miss my passing. | |
| Fierce winter fails to ruffle my icy sleep. | |
| We never quite vanish. no wet soft surrender. | |
| Same bad blood running in new families. |
| zuò cí : Anderson | |
| I review my past through wicked windows framed in silver | |
| And hung in toughened glass, upon my face, around and over. | |
| Now and then: memories of men who loved me. | |
| No stolen kiss could match their march on hot coals for me. | |
| I have walked a line both faint and narrow, hard to follow. | |
| Caught up in circumstance. harsh truth for history to mellow. | |
| Through my eyes: loyalties and obligation | |
| Magnified. obedience: the better fellow. | |
| Better not remember me. don' t mis my passing. | |
| Fierce winter fails to ruffle my icy sleep. | |
| We never quite vanish. no wet soft surrender. | |
| Still waiting: bad blood running in close families. | |
| I laughed like any child although you might find that strange | |
| And christmas was my favourite holiday. | |
| Christmas was my favourite holiday. | |
| I am not alone in seeing the world through wicked windows | |
| While others hide likewiese behind this vulnerable squinting. | |
| It' s in the stare: it' s in the silent scrutinizing. | |
| Strip you bare: i ofer you no more disguising. | |
| Better not remember me. don' t miss my passing. | |
| Fierce winter fails to ruffle my icy sleep. | |
| We never quite vanish. no wet soft surrender. | |
| Same bad blood running in new families. |