| Song | Glass in Your Feet |
| Artist | Fruit Bats |
| Album | Echolocation |
| Download | Image LRC TXT |
| 作曲 : Johnson | |
| Deaths head moth, and a honeybee, and the flightless birds with the useless wings. | |
| In the diamond mines of the Indian head, beneath the sawdust moon with the frozen rings. | |
| Mastodons and hummingbirds in an endless loop on the windy plain. | |
| Chestnut mares and the bison herds and the poison toads in the sugarcane. | |
| There are rainbows as the light refracts through the glass in your feet. | |
| Blue and green as the wind attacks and the glaciers retreat. | |
| Death's head moth and a honeybee and the flightless birds on the ground so cold. | |
| Maple leaves are gently falling from the eaves, silver tongues on the golden road |
| zuo qu : Johnson | |
| Deaths head moth, and a honeybee, and the flightless birds with the useless wings. | |
| In the diamond mines of the Indian head, beneath the sawdust moon with the frozen rings. | |
| Mastodons and hummingbirds in an endless loop on the windy plain. | |
| Chestnut mares and the bison herds and the poison toads in the sugarcane. | |
| There are rainbows as the light refracts through the glass in your feet. | |
| Blue and green as the wind attacks and the glaciers retreat. | |
| Death' s head moth and a honeybee and the flightless birds on the ground so cold. | |
| Maple leaves are gently falling from the eaves, silver tongues on the golden road |
| zuò qǔ : Johnson | |
| Deaths head moth, and a honeybee, and the flightless birds with the useless wings. | |
| In the diamond mines of the Indian head, beneath the sawdust moon with the frozen rings. | |
| Mastodons and hummingbirds in an endless loop on the windy plain. | |
| Chestnut mares and the bison herds and the poison toads in the sugarcane. | |
| There are rainbows as the light refracts through the glass in your feet. | |
| Blue and green as the wind attacks and the glaciers retreat. | |
| Death' s head moth and a honeybee and the flightless birds on the ground so cold. | |
| Maple leaves are gently falling from the eaves, silver tongues on the golden road |