| Song | To Catch a Tiger... |
| Artist | The Number Twelve Looks Like You |
| Album | Worse Than Alone |
| 作曲 : Karel, Korman, Pareja, Pedrick ... | |
| "Engine engine number 9 going down Chicago line engine off the Track, do you want your money back?" | |
| We waited all year for this time to come around. | |
| We didn't have much, but what we did have, we held very close. | |
| "Y-e-s spells yes, not because you're dirty, not because you're clean, | |
| Just because you kissed a girl behind a dirty magazine" | |
| I'M IT! | |
| my head against the tree, I start the count 1-2-3.... | |
| This is what life's all about...... | |
| "Ready or not-" I'm interrupted. | |
| My head against the sidewalk. | |
| Being thrown to the ground is what I've heard they do, | |
| A Laugh in your face and a crack in the head with a bottle of booze. | |
| I became the gangs soccer ball, kicked around for their enjoyment. | |
| Their laughing became deafening, | |
| The memories became scarring. | |
| And all they could do was watch. | |
| The gang,they swung at will. | |
| Pounding my pals for the thrill. | |
| But it was laughs that buried me. | |
| I leaned up against the tree, | |
| Had my pals holding my head, | |
| We all sat there and weeped. | |
| Why am I not hiding, why am I not seeking, | |
| Why am i cut open, the nights filled with shrieking. | |
| Give my hiding spot away, I'm done for today. | |
| Give my a few years, | |
| Then tell em to come back and play. |
| zuò qǔ : Karel, Korman, Pareja, Pedrick ... | |
| " Engine engine number 9 going down Chicago line engine off the Track, do you want your money back?" | |
| We waited all year for this time to come around. | |
| We didn' t have much, but what we did have, we held very close. | |
| " Yes spells yes, not because you' re dirty, not because you' re clean, | |
| Just because you kissed a girl behind a dirty magazine" | |
| I' M IT! | |
| my head against the tree, I start the count 123.... | |
| This is what life' s all about...... | |
| " Ready or not" I' m interrupted. | |
| My head against the sidewalk. | |
| Being thrown to the ground is what I' ve heard they do, | |
| A Laugh in your face and a crack in the head with a bottle of booze. | |
| I became the gangs soccer ball, kicked around for their enjoyment. | |
| Their laughing became deafening, | |
| The memories became scarring. | |
| And all they could do was watch. | |
| The gang, they swung at will. | |
| Pounding my pals for the thrill. | |
| But it was laughs that buried me. | |
| I leaned up against the tree, | |
| Had my pals holding my head, | |
| We all sat there and weeped. | |
| Why am I not hiding, why am I not seeking, | |
| Why am i cut open, the nights filled with shrieking. | |
| Give my hiding spot away, I' m done for today. | |
| Give my a few years, | |
| Then tell em to come back and play. |