| Song | This Is Not Love |
| Artist | Jethro Tull |
| Album | The Anniversary Collection |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作词 : Anderson | |
| Winds howled. rains spit down. | |
| All these nights playing precious games. | |
| Cheap hotel in some seaboard town | |
| Closed down for the winter and whispered names. | |
| Puppy-dog waves on a big moon sea | |
| Snap our heels half-heartedly | |
| And how come you know better than me | |
| That this is not love. | |
| No, this is not love. | |
| Empty drugstore postcards freeze | |
| Sunburst images of summers gone. | |
| Think i see us in these promenade days | |
| Before we learned october's song. | |
| Out on the headland, one gale-whipped tree; | |
| Curious, head bent to see. | |
| And how come you know better than me | |
| That this is not love. | |
| Down to the sad south, smokey plumes | |
| Mark that real world city home. | |
| Broken spells and silent gloom | |
| Ooze from that concrete honeycomb. | |
| Puppy-dog waves on a big moon sea | |
| Snapped our heels half-heartedly | |
| And how come you know better than me | |
| That this is not love. |
| zuo ci : Anderson | |
| Winds howled. rains spit down. | |
| All these nights playing precious games. | |
| Cheap hotel in some seaboard town | |
| Closed down for the winter and whispered names. | |
| Puppydog waves on a big moon sea | |
| Snap our heels halfheartedly | |
| And how come you know better than me | |
| That this is not love. | |
| No, this is not love. | |
| Empty drugstore postcards freeze | |
| Sunburst images of summers gone. | |
| Think i see us in these promenade days | |
| Before we learned october' s song. | |
| Out on the headland, one galewhipped tree | |
| Curious, head bent to see. | |
| And how come you know better than me | |
| That this is not love. | |
| Down to the sad south, smokey plumes | |
| Mark that real world city home. | |
| Broken spells and silent gloom | |
| Ooze from that concrete honeycomb. | |
| Puppydog waves on a big moon sea | |
| Snapped our heels halfheartedly | |
| And how come you know better than me | |
| That this is not love. |
| zuò cí : Anderson | |
| Winds howled. rains spit down. | |
| All these nights playing precious games. | |
| Cheap hotel in some seaboard town | |
| Closed down for the winter and whispered names. | |
| Puppydog waves on a big moon sea | |
| Snap our heels halfheartedly | |
| And how come you know better than me | |
| That this is not love. | |
| No, this is not love. | |
| Empty drugstore postcards freeze | |
| Sunburst images of summers gone. | |
| Think i see us in these promenade days | |
| Before we learned october' s song. | |
| Out on the headland, one galewhipped tree | |
| Curious, head bent to see. | |
| And how come you know better than me | |
| That this is not love. | |
| Down to the sad south, smokey plumes | |
| Mark that real world city home. | |
| Broken spells and silent gloom | |
| Ooze from that concrete honeycomb. | |
| Puppydog waves on a big moon sea | |
| Snapped our heels halfheartedly | |
| And how come you know better than me | |
| That this is not love. |