| Song | Anatomy of a Scene |
| Artist | Burden of a Day |
| Album | Pilots and Paper Planes |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Burden Of A Day | |
| As the they stand in ruins of cities | |
| the children play in ashes | |
| knee deep | |
| in our neglect | |
| our bags in overhead compartments | |
| so secure | |
| we walk with the world underneath our feet | |
| inside these cocoons made of band-aids and foam | |
| to stop the noises from bleeding in | |
| we like our music loud and different to alienate the masses | |
| run into the nightmare of self absorption | |
| we are what it takes to survive | |
| into the night we fall as pilots in paper planes | |
| we race against this coming rain | |
| out running this chance | |
| to prove that we are alive and we're here to stay | |
| we let this go | |
| our only chance to say | |
| our lives meant something more | |
| the air our fists are beating | |
| inside our hearts are bleeding | |
| we race to the end | |
| tonight we're dancing on the edge of reason | |
| pushing envelopes | |
| as if the postman could be tried for treason | |
| our canopy's covered in graffiti | |
| with no parachute we'll crash and burn | |
| baby burn | |
| without your calming fire we'll burn | |
| brilliantly without a cause... |
| zuo qu : Burden Of A Day | |
| As the they stand in ruins of cities | |
| the children play in ashes | |
| knee deep | |
| in our neglect | |
| our bags in overhead compartments | |
| so secure | |
| we walk with the world underneath our feet | |
| inside these cocoons made of bandaids and foam | |
| to stop the noises from bleeding in | |
| we like our music loud and different to alienate the masses | |
| run into the nightmare of self absorption | |
| we are what it takes to survive | |
| into the night we fall as pilots in paper planes | |
| we race against this coming rain | |
| out running this chance | |
| to prove that we are alive and we' re here to stay | |
| we let this go | |
| our only chance to say | |
| our lives meant something more | |
| the air our fists are beating | |
| inside our hearts are bleeding | |
| we race to the end | |
| tonight we' re dancing on the edge of reason | |
| pushing envelopes | |
| as if the postman could be tried for treason | |
| our canopy' s covered in graffiti | |
| with no parachute we' ll crash and burn | |
| baby burn | |
| without your calming fire we' ll burn | |
| brilliantly without a cause... |
| zuò qǔ : Burden Of A Day | |
| As the they stand in ruins of cities | |
| the children play in ashes | |
| knee deep | |
| in our neglect | |
| our bags in overhead compartments | |
| so secure | |
| we walk with the world underneath our feet | |
| inside these cocoons made of bandaids and foam | |
| to stop the noises from bleeding in | |
| we like our music loud and different to alienate the masses | |
| run into the nightmare of self absorption | |
| we are what it takes to survive | |
| into the night we fall as pilots in paper planes | |
| we race against this coming rain | |
| out running this chance | |
| to prove that we are alive and we' re here to stay | |
| we let this go | |
| our only chance to say | |
| our lives meant something more | |
| the air our fists are beating | |
| inside our hearts are bleeding | |
| we race to the end | |
| tonight we' re dancing on the edge of reason | |
| pushing envelopes | |
| as if the postman could be tried for treason | |
| our canopy' s covered in graffiti | |
| with no parachute we' ll crash and burn | |
| baby burn | |
| without your calming fire we' ll burn | |
| brilliantly without a cause... |