| Song | Cane Hill |
| Artist | Anne Clark |
| Album | The Very Best Of |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Clark, Harrow | |
| Here | |
| Upon these ghostly shadows | |
| Of men and women | |
| There are no smiles | |
| Singly | |
| They mingle | |
| With the greyness of the walls | |
| And at strange angles | |
| They travel on | |
| To nowhere | |
| Each a nucleus | |
| Of sadness and despair | |
| Small | |
| Or no conversation | |
| Passes their cigarette-stained lips | |
| They sit | |
| The lonely ones | |
| Sitting eternally | |
| In institutions | |
| That have become their eyes | |
| That have become their arms | |
| Their legs | |
| They are empty now | |
| Just shells moving back and forth | |
| Upon a shore | |
| Of some uncharted beach | |
| Up steep green hills | |
| They linger | |
| Like the darkest thoughts | |
| That push themselves | |
| Into your mind | |
| You cannot question them | |
| For they will not answer you | |
| They | |
| Are our deepest fears. |
| zuo qu : Clark, Harrow | |
| Here | |
| Upon these ghostly shadows | |
| Of men and women | |
| There are no smiles | |
| Singly | |
| They mingle | |
| With the greyness of the walls | |
| And at strange angles | |
| They travel on | |
| To nowhere | |
| Each a nucleus | |
| Of sadness and despair | |
| Small | |
| Or no conversation | |
| Passes their cigarettestained lips | |
| They sit | |
| The lonely ones | |
| Sitting eternally | |
| In institutions | |
| That have become their eyes | |
| That have become their arms | |
| Their legs | |
| They are empty now | |
| Just shells moving back and forth | |
| Upon a shore | |
| Of some uncharted beach | |
| Up steep green hills | |
| They linger | |
| Like the darkest thoughts | |
| That push themselves | |
| Into your mind | |
| You cannot question them | |
| For they will not answer you | |
| They | |
| Are our deepest fears. |
| zuò qǔ : Clark, Harrow | |
| Here | |
| Upon these ghostly shadows | |
| Of men and women | |
| There are no smiles | |
| Singly | |
| They mingle | |
| With the greyness of the walls | |
| And at strange angles | |
| They travel on | |
| To nowhere | |
| Each a nucleus | |
| Of sadness and despair | |
| Small | |
| Or no conversation | |
| Passes their cigarettestained lips | |
| They sit | |
| The lonely ones | |
| Sitting eternally | |
| In institutions | |
| That have become their eyes | |
| That have become their arms | |
| Their legs | |
| They are empty now | |
| Just shells moving back and forth | |
| Upon a shore | |
| Of some uncharted beach | |
| Up steep green hills | |
| They linger | |
| Like the darkest thoughts | |
| That push themselves | |
| Into your mind | |
| You cannot question them | |
| For they will not answer you | |
| They | |
| Are our deepest fears. |