| Song | Parakeet |
| Artist | R.E.M. |
| Album | Up |
| 作词 : Buck, Mills, Stipe | |
| you wake up in the morning | |
| and fall out of your bed | |
| mean cats eat parakeets | |
| and this one's nearly dead. | |
| you dearly wish the wind would shift | |
| and greasy windows slide | |
| open for the parakeet | |
| who's colored bitter lime. | |
| open the window | |
| and lift into your dreams | |
| lately baby | |
| you can barely breathe. | |
| a broken wrist | |
| an accident | |
| you know that something's wrong | |
| you fold the leavings of your past | |
| no one knows you've gone. | |
| the sunspot flares of the early | |
| nineties light up your wings. | |
| and scan the shortwave radio | |
| it's tracking outer rings. | |
| the tectonic dispatcher shifts | |
| to smooth the ocean floor | |
| and flattens out to warmer winds | |
| of Brisbane's sunny shore. | |
| where buddhas tend to mending wrists | |
| a tea made from the leaves | |
| of eucalyptus fragrances | |
| and coriander seeds. | |
| you wake up in the morning | |
| to warm Pacific breeze | |
| where mean cats chew on licorice | |
| and cannot climb the trees. | |
| open your window | |
| and lift into a dream | |
| baby, baby | |
| baby starts to breathe |
| zuò cí : Buck, Mills, Stipe | |
| you wake up in the morning | |
| and fall out of your bed | |
| mean cats eat parakeets | |
| and this one' s nearly dead. | |
| you dearly wish the wind would shift | |
| and greasy windows slide | |
| open for the parakeet | |
| who' s colored bitter lime. | |
| open the window | |
| and lift into your dreams | |
| lately baby | |
| you can barely breathe. | |
| a broken wrist | |
| an accident | |
| you know that something' s wrong | |
| you fold the leavings of your past | |
| no one knows you' ve gone. | |
| the sunspot flares of the early | |
| nineties light up your wings. | |
| and scan the shortwave radio | |
| it' s tracking outer rings. | |
| the tectonic dispatcher shifts | |
| to smooth the ocean floor | |
| and flattens out to warmer winds | |
| of Brisbane' s sunny shore. | |
| where buddhas tend to mending wrists | |
| a tea made from the leaves | |
| of eucalyptus fragrances | |
| and coriander seeds. | |
| you wake up in the morning | |
| to warm Pacific breeze | |
| where mean cats chew on licorice | |
| and cannot climb the trees. | |
| open your window | |
| and lift into a dream | |
| baby, baby | |
| baby starts to breathe |