Violets - Momus.mp3

[00:00.00] 作词 : Momus
[00:20.55]He shows up at the party in a pair of dark glasses
[00:26.76]His grandfather wore in the war
[00:28.35]Saying nothing to no-one, just drinks as if that's
[00:35.07]What God gave him his ugly mouth for
[00:38.10]And he doesn't make passes at the girls in the corner
[00:39.45]In their Bolshevik glasses and black
[00:43.14]When they giggle a little and look at him funny
[00:47.67]The gatecrasher only looks back
[00:57.72]He takes in the faces, never quite placing them
[01:03.63]Squinting his short-sighted eyes
[01:05.43]And each one reminds him of someone he's known
[01:12.51]Or someone he faintly dislikes
[01:23.34]And he can't understand the naive curiosity
[01:28.02]Forcing two strangers to talk
[01:28.98]When language is always and everywhere language
[01:36.96]And people are like cheese and chalk
[01:41.10]So he lifts himself out of his squatting position
[01:45.96]And gets up for something to eat
[01:49.38]But the ham is too pink and the turkey is cardboard
[01:53.97]And the plate is as floppy as meat
[02:00.66]So he fills up his glass with a bottle of vodka
[02:01.80]Snatched from some new arrivals who stare
[02:05.04]As he tips back his head like a man seized with laughter
[02:09.15]And spits the drink into the fire
[02:22.17]And he looks so appealing with eyes like a bloodhound
[02:26.16]And hair like the 'Quatre Cent Coups'
[02:26.91]With the holes in his trousers designed to arouse us
[02:29.85]He looks like he'd know what to do
[02:30.99]On the rims of his eyes there's a trace of infection
[02:35.61]Or maybe the mark of a tear
[02:36.69]And is it mascara or is it bacteria, there where the white, where the white disappears?
[02:44.97]And which of those girls isn't scared of him
[02:46.86]And which of us isn't the same
[02:47.70]And maybe that's why, of the four of them
[02:49.47]No one remembers the gatecrasher's name
[02:50.73]Absentmindedly licking the tip of a finger
[03:07.77]He's just used for scratching his ear
[03:14.25]He wrinkles his nose at the taste of the wax
[03:15.63]Which, like him, is acidic and sour
[03:21.84]And just for a second something comes back to him
[03:24.93]Something so real and remote
[03:25.65]That he tips back his vodka to blank out the thought
[03:28.35]And he grins as it scorches his throat
[03:33.36]Maybe he thought of his mother, how she kicked out his father
[03:35.37]When he'd pushed her around once too much
[03:36.60]And how he'd pretended to sleep as she hugged him
[03:39.81]And how he'd been calmed by her touch
[03:44.82]Or he's sad with nostalgia for a little Italian
[03:47.94]He met in a bar in Milan
[03:49.08]While they swept up the glass on Piazza Fontana
[03:51.66]He knew she'd be thinking of him
[03:53.52]She'd be thinking of him
[03:55.95]Or he wonders why Hitler liked lemon verbena
[04:01.38]And whether he loved Eva Braun
[04:06.30]Or maybe he thinks of his cheap bed and breakfast
[04:12.54]On the far side of town