作词 : Matthew Friedberger/Eleanor Friedberger 作曲 : Matthew Friedberger/Eleanor Friedberger I was wielding my axe drunk whisky at the bar every night coming home out the windshield of my car I would look through the boughs and think I saw my lucky star. I was spreading my sheets took dinner all alone every night of the week awaiting by the phone. I would dab off my tears with my favorite pine cone. Needle prick my spruce root. Dear little hemlock shoot, Make me stay sharp, and keen and evergreen. I would tend to my bees sell honey on the road every fall in the wet watching lorries take their load And I’d get all my winnings ask for special sap in code In August three weeks I’m back in village where I clip all sorts of brambles and thorns From up the hill I pip In a little clay cup the stuff I cross myself and sip. Needle prick my spruce root Dear little hemlock shoot Make me stay sharp and keen, evergreen. I was casting my line angling way the day. The stream was swift, it was clear, But the light was getting gray. I bent down by the thistle and thought of what it was I’d say. Needle prick my spruce root Dear little hemlock shoot Make me stay sharp And keen, evergreen.
作词 : Matthew Friedberger/Eleanor Friedberger 作曲 : Matthew Friedberger/Eleanor Friedberger I was wielding my axe drunk whisky at the bar every night coming home out the windshield of my car I would look through the boughs and think I saw my lucky star. I was spreading my sheets took dinner all alone every night of the week awaiting by the phone. I would dab off my tears with my favorite pine cone. Needle prick my spruce root. Dear little hemlock shoot, Make me stay sharp, and keen and evergreen. I would tend to my bees sell honey on the road every fall in the wet watching lorries take their load And I’d get all my winnings ask for special sap in code In August three weeks I’m back in village where I clip all sorts of brambles and thorns From up the hill I pip In a little clay cup the stuff I cross myself and sip. Needle prick my spruce root Dear little hemlock shoot Make me stay sharp and keen, evergreen. I was casting my line angling way the day. The stream was swift, it was clear, But the light was getting gray. I bent down by the thistle and thought of what it was I’d say. Needle prick my spruce root Dear little hemlock shoot Make me stay sharp And keen, evergreen.
