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  • 作词 : Costello
    I spy through the "Spirit of Curiosity"
    All the scandals of each vain monstrosity
    I gossip and I pry and I insinuate
    If the failure is great
    Then it tends to fascinate
    A tornado dropped a funnel cloud with twenty tons of rain
    Though she had the attention span of warm cellophane
    Her lovers fell like skittles in an 10-pin bowling lane
    But nothing could compare with that explosion of fame
    So you jump back with alarm
    Every Elvis has his Army
    Every rattlesnake its charm
    Can you still hear me?
    Am I coming through just fine?
    Your memory was buried in simple box of pine
    Did her green eyes seduce you and make you get so weak?
    Was there fire engine red that she left upon your cheek?
    It's such a shame you had to break the heart
    You could have counted on but the last thing you need is another
    ...Episode of blonde
    Revolving like a jeweller's figure on a music box
    Spangled curtain parted and a night club scene unlocks
    Pinned and fixed and fastened in a follow spot
    Arms thrown out to everyone, she's giving all she's got
    To the last gasp of a wounded bandeon
    Tiny man imploring to the ceiling fan
    This stolen feeling
    Amplified up through the busted speaker
    Blaring, blasting, advertising, distorted beyond reason
    Into the street where petty crime coats shadow panic drunkards,
    Half out of the taxi cab the barker seized my elbow
    He thought I was another lonely, likely pilgrim looking for St. Telmo
    Repeat chorus
    I tried to keep a straight face but you know it never pays
    He would stare into those eyes and then vacation in her gaze
    She was a cute little ruin that he pulled out of the rubble
    Now they're both living in a soft soap bubble
    The film producer's contemplating, entertaining suicide
    The picture crumpled in his fist, his runaway child bride
    The timepiece stretched across his wrist
    She couldn't care less cast aside
    The scent that so repelled him that he swore: "insecticide"
    And there's farewell note to mother
    That will conclude "Your loving Son"
    "Oh, tell your other children not to do as I have done"
    Chorus
    So an artist drags a toothbrush across the first thing that he sees
    And names the painting "Christ's Last Exit into Purgatory"
    Receiving secret messages from an alien intelligence
    Paying off his stalker it's a legitimate expense
    So paste up pictures of those shrill and hollow girls
    With puckered lips
    She's a trophy on your arm
    A magnet for your money clip
    The moral of this story is the sorry tale to say
    They're pieced with links of chains so they can never run away
  • 作词 : Costello
    I spy through the "Spirit of Curiosity"
    All the scandals of each vain monstrosity
    I gossip and I pry and I insinuate
    If the failure is great
    Then it tends to fascinate
    A tornado dropped a funnel cloud with twenty tons of rain
    Though she had the attention span of warm cellophane
    Her lovers fell like skittles in an 10-pin bowling lane
    But nothing could compare with that explosion of fame
    So you jump back with alarm
    Every Elvis has his Army
    Every rattlesnake its charm
    Can you still hear me?
    Am I coming through just fine?
    Your memory was buried in simple box of pine
    Did her green eyes seduce you and make you get so weak?
    Was there fire engine red that she left upon your cheek?
    It's such a shame you had to break the heart
    You could have counted on but the last thing you need is another
    ...Episode of blonde
    Revolving like a jeweller's figure on a music box
    Spangled curtain parted and a night club scene unlocks
    Pinned and fixed and fastened in a follow spot
    Arms thrown out to everyone, she's giving all she's got
    To the last gasp of a wounded bandeon
    Tiny man imploring to the ceiling fan
    This stolen feeling
    Amplified up through the busted speaker
    Blaring, blasting, advertising, distorted beyond reason
    Into the street where petty crime coats shadow panic drunkards,
    Half out of the taxi cab the barker seized my elbow
    He thought I was another lonely, likely pilgrim looking for St. Telmo
    Repeat chorus
    I tried to keep a straight face but you know it never pays
    He would stare into those eyes and then vacation in her gaze
    She was a cute little ruin that he pulled out of the rubble
    Now they're both living in a soft soap bubble
    The film producer's contemplating, entertaining suicide
    The picture crumpled in his fist, his runaway child bride
    The timepiece stretched across his wrist
    She couldn't care less cast aside
    The scent that so repelled him that he swore: "insecticide"
    And there's farewell note to mother
    That will conclude "Your loving Son"
    "Oh, tell your other children not to do as I have done"
    Chorus
    So an artist drags a toothbrush across the first thing that he sees
    And names the painting "Christ's Last Exit into Purgatory"
    Receiving secret messages from an alien intelligence
    Paying off his stalker it's a legitimate expense
    So paste up pictures of those shrill and hollow girls
    With puckered lips
    She's a trophy on your arm
    A magnet for your money clip
    The moral of this story is the sorry tale to say
    They're pieced with links of chains so they can never run away