作词 : Hayden Thorpe/Robert Macfarlane
作曲 : Hayden Thorpe/Robert Macfarlane
It is surely time to fire.
We are down now past the plastic, the sea-coal, the flip-flops, down through the flints, the quartzite, the hags, and down to the imprint-taking, relic-yielding clay.
We are among bracelet clasps, spindle-whorls, a whalebone table. We are among fossils: the mammoths, the turtles, the sharks, the nautilus, the wing bone of the albatross, the ear bone of the eagle ray.
Song of the bomb
The drifting song
The firing song
The song of the bomb
Song of the wren
The devil-bird’s song
The firing song
The song of the bomb
Song of the spores
The drifting song
The firing song
The song of the bomb
Song of the hag
The sea coal song
The firing song
The song of the bomb
The song of the bomb
The song of the bomb
His lips are now chert, the slate blue of a peregrine's back and the sea's black before a storm, and his tongue is agate, all the profuse, unearthly colours of agate - I am petrified.
Oh happy band of pilgrims, drift upward to the skies
Where such a murmuration shall win so
great a prize!
Shingle shelter bunker, bunker shelters blast,
Dark drifts down, night flies fast.
Song of the bomb
The drifting song
The firing song
The song of the bomb
Song of the wren
The devil-bird’s song
The firing song
The song of the bomb
Song of the spores
The drifting song
The firing song
The firing song
The firing song
The firing song
The song of the bomb
The song of the bomb
The song of the bomb
The song of the bomb
The song of the bomb
The song of the bomb
The song of the bomb
The song of the bomb
It was all sea once, in a long unbroken line.
It was all sea once
It was all sea once
It was all sea once
It was all sea once
It was all sea once
It was all sea once
It was all sea once
It was all sea once
作词 : Hayden Thorpe/Robert Macfarlane
作曲 : Hayden Thorpe/Robert Macfarlane
It is surely time to fire.
We are down now past the plastic, the sea-coal, the flip-flops, down through the flints, the quartzite, the hags, and down to the imprint-taking, relic-yielding clay.
We are among bracelet clasps, spindle-whorls, a whalebone table. We are among fossils: the mammoths, the turtles, the sharks, the nautilus, the wing bone of the albatross, the ear bone of the eagle ray.
Song of the bomb
The drifting song
The firing song
The song of the bomb
Song of the wren
The devil-bird’s song
The firing song
The song of the bomb
Song of the spores
The drifting song
The firing song
The song of the bomb
Song of the hag
The sea coal song
The firing song
The song of the bomb
The song of the bomb
The song of the bomb
His lips are now chert, the slate blue of a peregrine's back and the sea's black before a storm, and his tongue is agate, all the profuse, unearthly colours of agate - I am petrified.
Oh happy band of pilgrims, drift upward to the skies
Where such a murmuration shall win so
great a prize!
Shingle shelter bunker, bunker shelters blast,
Dark drifts down, night flies fast.
Song of the bomb
The drifting song
The firing song
The song of the bomb
Song of the wren
The devil-bird’s song
The firing song
The song of the bomb
Song of the spores
The drifting song
The firing song
The firing song
The firing song
The firing song
The song of the bomb
The song of the bomb
The song of the bomb
The song of the bomb
The song of the bomb
The song of the bomb
The song of the bomb
The song of the bomb
It was all sea once, in a long unbroken line.
It was all sea once
It was all sea once
It was all sea once
It was all sea once
It was all sea once
It was all sea once
It was all sea once
It was all sea once