| Song | Guitar And Pen |
| Artist | The Who |
| Album | Who Are You |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Pete Townshend | |
| 作词 : Townshend | |
| You're alone above the street somewhere | |
| Wondering how you'll ever count out there | |
| You can walk, you can talk, you can fight | |
| But inside you've got something to write | |
| In your hand you hold your only friend | |
| Never spend your guitar or your pen | |
| Your guitar or your pen | |
| Your guitar or your pen | |
| Your guitar or your pen | |
| Your guitar or your pen | |
| When you take up a pencil and sharpen it up | |
| When you're kicking the fence and still nothing will budge | |
| When the words are immobile until you sit down | |
| Never feel they're worth keeping, they're not easily found | |
| Then you know in some strange, unexplainable way | |
| You must really have something | |
| Jumping, thumping, fighting, hiding away | |
| Important to say | |
| When you sing through the verse and you end in a scream | |
| And you swear and you curse 'cause the rhyming ain't clean | |
| But it suddenly comes after years of delay | |
| You pick up your guitar, you can suddenly play | |
| When your fingers are bleeding and the knuckles are white | |
| Then you can be sure, you can open the door | |
| Get off of the floor tonight | |
| You have something to write | |
| When you want to complain, there's no one can stop you | |
| But when your music proclaims, there's no one can top you | |
| You are wearing you heart on your jumping feet | |
| You've got a head start away from the street | |
| But is that what you want, to be rich and be gone? | |
| Could be there's just one thing left in the end | |
| Your guitar and your pen | |
| When you sing to your mum, and you hum and you croon | |
| And she says that she'd like it 'with more of a tune' | |
| And you smash your guitar at the end of the bed | |
| Then you stick it together and start writing again | |
| And you know that it won't be too long 'til your back | |
| To bring her some money, she's calling you 'honey' | |
| Stashed in a bloody great sack | |
| In your Cadillac | |
| You're alone | |
| You're alone | |
| You're alone above the street somewhere | |
| Wondering how you'll ever count out there | |
| You can walk, you can talk, you can fight | |
| But inside you've got something to write | |
| In your hand you hold your only friend | |
| Never spend your guitar or your pen | |
| Your guitar or your pen X8 | |
| Never spend your guitar or your pen |
| zuo qu : Pete Townshend | |
| zuo ci : Townshend | |
| You' re alone above the street somewhere | |
| Wondering how you' ll ever count out there | |
| You can walk, you can talk, you can fight | |
| But inside you' ve got something to write | |
| In your hand you hold your only friend | |
| Never spend your guitar or your pen | |
| Your guitar or your pen | |
| Your guitar or your pen | |
| Your guitar or your pen | |
| Your guitar or your pen | |
| When you take up a pencil and sharpen it up | |
| When you' re kicking the fence and still nothing will budge | |
| When the words are immobile until you sit down | |
| Never feel they' re worth keeping, they' re not easily found | |
| Then you know in some strange, unexplainable way | |
| You must really have something | |
| Jumping, thumping, fighting, hiding away | |
| Important to say | |
| When you sing through the verse and you end in a scream | |
| And you swear and you curse ' cause the rhyming ain' t clean | |
| But it suddenly comes after years of delay | |
| You pick up your guitar, you can suddenly play | |
| When your fingers are bleeding and the knuckles are white | |
| Then you can be sure, you can open the door | |
| Get off of the floor tonight | |
| You have something to write | |
| When you want to complain, there' s no one can stop you | |
| But when your music proclaims, there' s no one can top you | |
| You are wearing you heart on your jumping feet | |
| You' ve got a head start away from the street | |
| But is that what you want, to be rich and be gone? | |
| Could be there' s just one thing left in the end | |
| Your guitar and your pen | |
| When you sing to your mum, and you hum and you croon | |
| And she says that she' d like it ' with more of a tune' | |
| And you smash your guitar at the end of the bed | |
| Then you stick it together and start writing again | |
| And you know that it won' t be too long ' til your back | |
| To bring her some money, she' s calling you ' honey' | |
| Stashed in a bloody great sack | |
| In your Cadillac | |
| You' re alone | |
| You' re alone | |
| You' re alone above the street somewhere | |
| Wondering how you' ll ever count out there | |
| You can walk, you can talk, you can fight | |
| But inside you' ve got something to write | |
| In your hand you hold your only friend | |
| Never spend your guitar or your pen | |
| Your guitar or your pen X8 | |
| Never spend your guitar or your pen |
| zuò qǔ : Pete Townshend | |
| zuò cí : Townshend | |
| You' re alone above the street somewhere | |
| Wondering how you' ll ever count out there | |
| You can walk, you can talk, you can fight | |
| But inside you' ve got something to write | |
| In your hand you hold your only friend | |
| Never spend your guitar or your pen | |
| Your guitar or your pen | |
| Your guitar or your pen | |
| Your guitar or your pen | |
| Your guitar or your pen | |
| When you take up a pencil and sharpen it up | |
| When you' re kicking the fence and still nothing will budge | |
| When the words are immobile until you sit down | |
| Never feel they' re worth keeping, they' re not easily found | |
| Then you know in some strange, unexplainable way | |
| You must really have something | |
| Jumping, thumping, fighting, hiding away | |
| Important to say | |
| When you sing through the verse and you end in a scream | |
| And you swear and you curse ' cause the rhyming ain' t clean | |
| But it suddenly comes after years of delay | |
| You pick up your guitar, you can suddenly play | |
| When your fingers are bleeding and the knuckles are white | |
| Then you can be sure, you can open the door | |
| Get off of the floor tonight | |
| You have something to write | |
| When you want to complain, there' s no one can stop you | |
| But when your music proclaims, there' s no one can top you | |
| You are wearing you heart on your jumping feet | |
| You' ve got a head start away from the street | |
| But is that what you want, to be rich and be gone? | |
| Could be there' s just one thing left in the end | |
| Your guitar and your pen | |
| When you sing to your mum, and you hum and you croon | |
| And she says that she' d like it ' with more of a tune' | |
| And you smash your guitar at the end of the bed | |
| Then you stick it together and start writing again | |
| And you know that it won' t be too long ' til your back | |
| To bring her some money, she' s calling you ' honey' | |
| Stashed in a bloody great sack | |
| In your Cadillac | |
| You' re alone | |
| You' re alone | |
| You' re alone above the street somewhere | |
| Wondering how you' ll ever count out there | |
| You can walk, you can talk, you can fight | |
| But inside you' ve got something to write | |
| In your hand you hold your only friend | |
| Never spend your guitar or your pen | |
| Your guitar or your pen X8 | |
| Never spend your guitar or your pen |