| Song | Here On The Eerie |
| Artist | Prefab Sprout |
| Album | Swoon |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : McAloon | |
| It's much more beguiling, than children at play. | |
| The mind meets dilemma, with a heart in decay. | |
| How they reconcile art with... | |
| What was I going to say? | |
| I called because you're in a position to help. | |
| With a limited talent, but impossible wealth. | |
| How they reconcile love with... | |
| It sure is a problem... | |
| But don't go away. | |
| Cool critique of new | |
| Gomorrah, or schoolboy crush on | |
| Che Guevara, face yourself or... | |
| Give it away. | |
| Hearys grow numb and consience weary, mutiny here on | |
| Eerie, face yourself or... | |
| Give it away | |
| Don't start pretending, you've feelings anguish, if you'd prefer to dance. | |
| Please stop talking, of things you know nothing. | |
| The truth well will make you ill. | |
| So chew on the safest, the blandest of food. | |
| And avoid the specifics, that might ruin the mood. | |
| A universal prescription... continues to elude. | |
| Love becomes you, a happy burden. | |
| But other liver stay neatly curtained. | |
| Recognize that, | |
| It won't go away. | |
| Hearts grow numb, and conscience weary, mutiny here on the | |
| Eerie. Face yourself or... give it away. | |
| This star crossed lovers business, astrologeewhizzness, go rhyme your runes in | |
| June. Don't turn tearful, or mystical on me, | |
| I'm not your seventh son. |
| zuo ci : McAloon | |
| It' s much more beguiling, than children at play. | |
| The mind meets dilemma, with a heart in decay. | |
| How they reconcile art with... | |
| What was I going to say? | |
| I called because you' re in a position to help. | |
| With a limited talent, but impossible wealth. | |
| How they reconcile love with... | |
| It sure is a problem... | |
| But don' t go away. | |
| Cool critique of new | |
| Gomorrah, or schoolboy crush on | |
| Che Guevara, face yourself or... | |
| Give it away. | |
| Hearys grow numb and consience weary, mutiny here on | |
| Eerie, face yourself or... | |
| Give it away | |
| Don' t start pretending, you' ve feelings anguish, if you' d prefer to dance. | |
| Please stop talking, of things you know nothing. | |
| The truth well will make you ill. | |
| So chew on the safest, the blandest of food. | |
| And avoid the specifics, that might ruin the mood. | |
| A universal prescription... continues to elude. | |
| Love becomes you, a happy burden. | |
| But other liver stay neatly curtained. | |
| Recognize that, | |
| It won' t go away. | |
| Hearts grow numb, and conscience weary, mutiny here on the | |
| Eerie. Face yourself or... give it away. | |
| This star crossed lovers business, astrologeewhizzness, go rhyme your runes in | |
| June. Don' t turn tearful, or mystical on me, | |
| I' m not your seventh son. |
| zuò cí : McAloon | |
| It' s much more beguiling, than children at play. | |
| The mind meets dilemma, with a heart in decay. | |
| How they reconcile art with... | |
| What was I going to say? | |
| I called because you' re in a position to help. | |
| With a limited talent, but impossible wealth. | |
| How they reconcile love with... | |
| It sure is a problem... | |
| But don' t go away. | |
| Cool critique of new | |
| Gomorrah, or schoolboy crush on | |
| Che Guevara, face yourself or... | |
| Give it away. | |
| Hearys grow numb and consience weary, mutiny here on | |
| Eerie, face yourself or... | |
| Give it away | |
| Don' t start pretending, you' ve feelings anguish, if you' d prefer to dance. | |
| Please stop talking, of things you know nothing. | |
| The truth well will make you ill. | |
| So chew on the safest, the blandest of food. | |
| And avoid the specifics, that might ruin the mood. | |
| A universal prescription... continues to elude. | |
| Love becomes you, a happy burden. | |
| But other liver stay neatly curtained. | |
| Recognize that, | |
| It won' t go away. | |
| Hearts grow numb, and conscience weary, mutiny here on the | |
| Eerie. Face yourself or... give it away. | |
| This star crossed lovers business, astrologeewhizzness, go rhyme your runes in | |
| June. Don' t turn tearful, or mystical on me, | |
| I' m not your seventh son. |