| Song | Hejira |
| Artist | Joni Mitchell |
| Album | A Day in the Garden |
| 作词 : Mitchell | |
| I'm traveling in some vehicle | |
| I'm sitting in some cafe | |
| A defector from the petty wars | |
| That shell shock love away | |
| There's comfort in melancholy | |
| When there's no need to explain | |
| It's just as natural as the weather | |
| In this moody sky today | |
| In our possessive coupling | |
| So much could not be expressed | |
| So now i'm returning to myself | |
| These things that you and i suppressed | |
| I see something of myself in everyone | |
| Just at this moment of the world | |
| As snow gathers like bolts of lace | |
| Waltzing on a ballroom girl | |
| You know it never has been easy | |
| Whether you do or you do not resign | |
| Whether you travel the breadth of extremities | |
| Or stick to some straighter line | |
| Now here's a man and a woman sitting on a rock | |
| They're either going to thaw out or freeze | |
| Listen... | |
| Strains of benny goodman | |
| Coming thru' the snow and the pinewood trees | |
| I'm porous with travel fever | |
| But you know i'm so glad to be on my own | |
| Still somehow the slightest touch of a stranger | |
| Can set up trembling in my bones | |
| I know - no one's going to show me everything | |
| We all come and go unknown | |
| Each so deep and superficial | |
| Between the forceps and the stone | |
| Well i looked at the granite markers | |
| Those tribute to finality - to eternity | |
| And then i looked at myself here | |
| Chicken scratching for my immortality | |
| In the church they light the candles | |
| And the wax rolls down like tears | |
| There's the hope and the hopelessness | |
| I've witnessed thirty years | |
| We're only particles of change i know, i know | |
| Orbiting around the sun | |
| But how can i have that point of view | |
| When i'm always bound and tied to someone | |
| White flags of winter chimneys | |
| Waving truce against the moon | |
| In the mirrors of a modern bank | |
| >from the window of a hotel room | |
| I'm traveling in some vehicle | |
| I'm sitting in some cafe | |
| A defector from the petty wars | |
| Until love sucks me back that way |
| zuò cí : Mitchell | |
| I' m traveling in some vehicle | |
| I' m sitting in some cafe | |
| A defector from the petty wars | |
| That shell shock love away | |
| There' s comfort in melancholy | |
| When there' s no need to explain | |
| It' s just as natural as the weather | |
| In this moody sky today | |
| In our possessive coupling | |
| So much could not be expressed | |
| So now i' m returning to myself | |
| These things that you and i suppressed | |
| I see something of myself in everyone | |
| Just at this moment of the world | |
| As snow gathers like bolts of lace | |
| Waltzing on a ballroom girl | |
| You know it never has been easy | |
| Whether you do or you do not resign | |
| Whether you travel the breadth of extremities | |
| Or stick to some straighter line | |
| Now here' s a man and a woman sitting on a rock | |
| They' re either going to thaw out or freeze | |
| Listen... | |
| Strains of benny goodman | |
| Coming thru' the snow and the pinewood trees | |
| I' m porous with travel fever | |
| But you know i' m so glad to be on my own | |
| Still somehow the slightest touch of a stranger | |
| Can set up trembling in my bones | |
| I know no one' s going to show me everything | |
| We all come and go unknown | |
| Each so deep and superficial | |
| Between the forceps and the stone | |
| Well i looked at the granite markers | |
| Those tribute to finality to eternity | |
| And then i looked at myself here | |
| Chicken scratching for my immortality | |
| In the church they light the candles | |
| And the wax rolls down like tears | |
| There' s the hope and the hopelessness | |
| I' ve witnessed thirty years | |
| We' re only particles of change i know, i know | |
| Orbiting around the sun | |
| But how can i have that point of view | |
| When i' m always bound and tied to someone | |
| White flags of winter chimneys | |
| Waving truce against the moon | |
| In the mirrors of a modern bank | |
| from the window of a hotel room | |
| I' m traveling in some vehicle | |
| I' m sitting in some cafe | |
| A defector from the petty wars | |
| Until love sucks me back that way |