Roots...

	作词 : Banhart
	When the roots of the tree are as cold as can be
	When the wind and the sea are the moth and the bee
	When the rays of the sun lick your skin with its tongue,
	And the grass with its green
	And the grass with its green
	And the shine with its sheen
	And the shine with its sheen
	And the trains with their tracks,
	And the spines with their backs,
	And your sway with its slow
	And the wind with its blow,
	And your scream with its soul, I don't play rock and roll!
	And the people with their lungs
	And the people with their paws.
	If the sky were a stone made of lips made of bone,
	count my teeth to keep the time.

	zuò cí : Banhart
	When the roots of the tree are as cold as can be
	When the wind and the sea are the moth and the bee
	When the rays of the sun lick your skin with its tongue,
	And the grass with its green
	And the grass with its green
	And the shine with its sheen
	And the shine with its sheen
	And the trains with their tracks,
	And the spines with their backs,
	And your sway with its slow
	And the wind with its blow,
	And your scream with its soul, I don' t play rock and roll!
	And the people with their lungs
	And the people with their paws.
	If the sky were a stone made of lips made of bone,
	count my teeth to keep the time.