Inheritance Lyrics
| Song | Inheritance |
| Artist | Lord Of The Isles |
| Artist | Ellen Renton |
| Album | Whities 029 |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| [00:00.000] | 作词 : Neil McDonald/Ellen Renton |
| [00:01.000] | 作曲 : Neil McDonald |
| [00:07.171] | I must be the first |
| [00:11.324] | Surely no one has let the cold jeg their knees |
| [00:15.034] | Quite happily |
| [00:17.751] | Lined up a ruler against the seam |
| [00:20.676] | Where the sky on a too-full stomach |
| [00:23.053] | Tucks itself into the sea |
| [00:27.129] | Only I see the water |
| [00:30.812] | Sugar-glazed to stillness |
| [00:33.293] | Like two taps with a spoon |
| [00:35.409] | Would split its lid in two |
| [00:39.380] | The wind that burls me |
| [00:41.235] | Does not feel second hand |
| [00:44.369] | It’s as true as a first-word |
| [00:47.530] | That repaints the front room it cuts through |
| [00:52.650] | Sounds stretched to an echo |
| [00:55.262] | So no one remembers how language used to land |
| [01:00.252] | The sand |
| [01:02.159] | Is out the packet new |
| [01:05.842] | Branded with my shoes |
| [01:11.563] | Maybe the sun is knackered too |
| [01:15.847] | Like each of us |
| [01:17.728] | Wrapped up in our work, and ourselves |
| [01:21.411] | Dreaming of being shelled by our backpacks |
| [01:24.702] | And swallowed by the beach |
| [01:28.595] | Maybe it's a parent |
| [01:30.684] | Too tired to keep playing |
| [01:32.983] | That lies through their teeth |
| [01:36.536] | Because all pain is small change |
| [01:38.939] | In the cost of wonder |
| [01:43.693] | Rising somewhere else while we see it sleep |
| [01:48.787] | Returning its light |
| [01:50.564] | In the nick of time |
| [01:53.463] | So that not a grain is lost |
| [01:57.120] | Not a bloat of cloud burst |
| [02:00.778] | Not a wave out of place |
| [02:05.192] | I must be the first |
| [02:11.436] | Everything I have |
| [02:12.977] | Was given to me clean |
| [02:16.712] | Like the sky burns just to blush my face |
| [02:22.590] | I have held it up |
| [02:25.385] | Ungloved |
| [02:28.546] | Crushed seaweed beneath me |
| [02:32.151] | Breathed in the beach until I have a new set of lungs |
| [02:37.767] | But I have never wiped sunrise down my jumper |
| [02:41.189] | To get rid of fingerprints |
| [02:45.656] | I never took my shoes off as I came in |
| [00:00.000] | zuo ci : Neil McDonald Ellen Renton |
| [00:01.000] | zuo qu : Neil McDonald |
| [00:07.171] | I must be the first |
| [00:11.324] | Surely no one has let the cold jeg their knees |
| [00:15.034] | Quite happily |
| [00:17.751] | Lined up a ruler against the seam |
| [00:20.676] | Where the sky on a too-full stomach |
| [00:23.053] | Tucks itself into the sea |
| [00:27.129] | Only I see the water |
| [00:30.812] | Sugar-glazed to stillness |
| [00:33.293] | Like two taps with a spoon |
| [00:35.409] | Would split its lid in two |
| [00:39.380] | The wind that burls me |
| [00:41.235] | Does not feel second hand |
| [00:44.369] | It' s as true as a first-word |
| [00:47.530] | That repaints the front room it cuts through |
| [00:52.650] | Sounds stretched to an echo |
| [00:55.262] | So no one remembers how language used to land |
| [01:00.252] | The sand |
| [01:02.159] | Is out the packet new |
| [01:05.842] | Branded with my shoes |
| [01:11.563] | Maybe the sun is knackered too |
| [01:15.847] | Like each of us |
| [01:17.728] | Wrapped up in our work, and ourselves |
| [01:21.411] | Dreaming of being shelled by our backpacks |
| [01:24.702] | And swallowed by the beach |
| [01:28.595] | Maybe it' s a parent |
| [01:30.684] | Too tired to keep playing |
| [01:32.983] | That lies through their teeth |
| [01:36.536] | Because all pain is small change |
| [01:38.939] | In the cost of wonder |
| [01:43.693] | Rising somewhere else while we see it sleep |
| [01:48.787] | Returning its light |
| [01:50.564] | In the nick of time |
| [01:53.463] | So that not a grain is lost |
| [01:57.120] | Not a bloat of cloud burst |
| [02:00.778] | Not a wave out of place |
| [02:05.192] | I must be the first |
| [02:11.436] | Everything I have |
| [02:12.977] | Was given to me clean |
| [02:16.712] | Like the sky burns just to blush my face |
| [02:22.590] | I have held it up |
| [02:25.385] | Ungloved |
| [02:28.546] | Crushed seaweed beneath me |
| [02:32.151] | Breathed in the beach until I have a new set of lungs |
| [02:37.767] | But I have never wiped sunrise down my jumper |
| [02:41.189] | To get rid of fingerprints |
| [02:45.656] | I never took my shoes off as I came in |
| [00:00.000] | zuò cí : Neil McDonald Ellen Renton |
| [00:01.000] | zuò qǔ : Neil McDonald |
| [00:07.171] | I must be the first |
| [00:11.324] | Surely no one has let the cold jeg their knees |
| [00:15.034] | Quite happily |
| [00:17.751] | Lined up a ruler against the seam |
| [00:20.676] | Where the sky on a too-full stomach |
| [00:23.053] | Tucks itself into the sea |
| [00:27.129] | Only I see the water |
| [00:30.812] | Sugar-glazed to stillness |
| [00:33.293] | Like two taps with a spoon |
| [00:35.409] | Would split its lid in two |
| [00:39.380] | The wind that burls me |
| [00:41.235] | Does not feel second hand |
| [00:44.369] | It' s as true as a first-word |
| [00:47.530] | That repaints the front room it cuts through |
| [00:52.650] | Sounds stretched to an echo |
| [00:55.262] | So no one remembers how language used to land |
| [01:00.252] | The sand |
| [01:02.159] | Is out the packet new |
| [01:05.842] | Branded with my shoes |
| [01:11.563] | Maybe the sun is knackered too |
| [01:15.847] | Like each of us |
| [01:17.728] | Wrapped up in our work, and ourselves |
| [01:21.411] | Dreaming of being shelled by our backpacks |
| [01:24.702] | And swallowed by the beach |
| [01:28.595] | Maybe it' s a parent |
| [01:30.684] | Too tired to keep playing |
| [01:32.983] | That lies through their teeth |
| [01:36.536] | Because all pain is small change |
| [01:38.939] | In the cost of wonder |
| [01:43.693] | Rising somewhere else while we see it sleep |
| [01:48.787] | Returning its light |
| [01:50.564] | In the nick of time |
| [01:53.463] | So that not a grain is lost |
| [01:57.120] | Not a bloat of cloud burst |
| [02:00.778] | Not a wave out of place |
| [02:05.192] | I must be the first |
| [02:11.436] | Everything I have |
| [02:12.977] | Was given to me clean |
| [02:16.712] | Like the sky burns just to blush my face |
| [02:22.590] | I have held it up |
| [02:25.385] | Ungloved |
| [02:28.546] | Crushed seaweed beneath me |
| [02:32.151] | Breathed in the beach until I have a new set of lungs |
| [02:37.767] | But I have never wiped sunrise down my jumper |
| [02:41.189] | To get rid of fingerprints |
| [02:45.656] | I never took my shoes off as I came in |
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