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  • 作词 : Smith
    Oh the story's told been told retold
    From the sacred scriptures to the
    tabloids
    All the fuss and fight none above a
    whisper
    The soul of gold the belly of a boy
    Well they drew him from the forest
    Like they draw blood
    Tied him to a tree like St. Sebastian
    And he turned his head and let the
    arrows fly
    Through the trees, the trees
    The ornamental leaves
    Boy cried wolf
    Wolf don't come
    Wolf within
    Boy cried wolf
    In the ancient mold they're dancing
    down
    Calling to the moon but it don't answer
    And they fell on their knees
    and passed the bowl around
    And the blood the blood the
    sacramental blood
    Boy cried wolf
    Wolf don't come
    Wolf within
    Boy cried wolf
    I am the body I am the stream
    I am the wake of everything
    They bring me flowers that are myself
    Garlands of blood that are myself
    Slain the lamb that is himself
    Torn reborn the cries of our dismay
    Are nothing to the wind but whose to
    mind
    Kings are lifted up and kings are thrown
    Lost received retrieved
    The human tide
    Innocence had its day
    Innocence had its day
    Innocence innocence
  • 作词 : Smith
    Oh the story's told been told retold
    From the sacred scriptures to the
    tabloids
    All the fuss and fight none above a
    whisper
    The soul of gold the belly of a boy
    Well they drew him from the forest
    Like they draw blood
    Tied him to a tree like St. Sebastian
    And he turned his head and let the
    arrows fly
    Through the trees, the trees
    The ornamental leaves
    Boy cried wolf
    Wolf don't come
    Wolf within
    Boy cried wolf
    In the ancient mold they're dancing
    down
    Calling to the moon but it don't answer
    And they fell on their knees
    and passed the bowl around
    And the blood the blood the
    sacramental blood
    Boy cried wolf
    Wolf don't come
    Wolf within
    Boy cried wolf
    I am the body I am the stream
    I am the wake of everything
    They bring me flowers that are myself
    Garlands of blood that are myself
    Slain the lamb that is himself
    Torn reborn the cries of our dismay
    Are nothing to the wind but whose to
    mind
    Kings are lifted up and kings are thrown
    Lost received retrieved
    The human tide
    Innocence had its day
    Innocence had its day
    Innocence innocence