[00:00.00] 作词 : Gibbard, Harmer, Walla
[00:00.23] 作曲 : Benjamin Gibbard/Nick Harmer/Chris Walla
[00:00.47]There's a saltwater film
[00:03.03]on the jar of your ashes
[00:05.72]I threw them to sea
[00:08.41]but a gust blew them backwards
[00:10.91]and the sting in my eyes
[00:14.65]which you then inflicted
[00:15.97]was par for the course
[00:17.91]just as when you were living
[00:21.16]It's no stretch to say
[00:23.41]you were not quite a father
[00:25.97]but a donor of seeds
[00:28.59]to a poor single mother
[00:30.97]that would raise us alone
[00:34.18]we never saw the money
[00:35.80]that went down your throat
[00:37.93]through the hole in your belly
[00:42.44]
[01:01.85]Thirteen years old
[01:03.11]in the suburbs of Denver
[01:05.48]standing in line
[01:10.10]for Thanksgiving dinner
[01:11.04]at the Catholic church
[01:12.29]the servers wore crosses
[01:16.04]to shield from the sufferance
[01:18.42]plaguing the others
[01:22.17]Styrofoam plates, cafeteria tables
[01:24.60]charity reeks of cheap wine and pity
[01:29.41]and I'm thinking of you
[01:35.22]I do every year
[01:40.54]When we count all our blessings
[01:42.42]And wonder what we're doing here.
[01:56.70]
[03:34.14]You're a disgrace
[03:34.76]to the concept of family
[03:35.63]the priest won't divulge
[03:36.58]that fact in his homily
[03:38.57]and I'll stand up and scream
[03:39.64]if the mourning remain quiet
[03:40.58]you can deck out a lie
[03:43.38]in a suit but I won't buy it
[03:45.76]I won't join in the procession
[03:48.20]that's speaking their peace
[03:50.38]using five-dollar words
[03:51.82]while praising his integrity
[03:56.15]and just 'cause he's gone
[03:57.96]it doesn't change the fact
[04:00.34]he was a bastard in life
[04:02.96]thus a bastard in death

作词 : Gibbard, Harmer, Walla
作曲 : Benjamin Gibbard/Nick Harmer/Chris Walla
There's a saltwater film
on the jar of your ashes
I threw them to sea
but a gust blew them backwards
and the sting in my eyes
which you then inflicted
was par for the course
just as when you were living
It's no stretch to say
you were not quite a father
but a donor of seeds
to a poor single mother
that would raise us alone
we never saw the money
that went down your throat
through the hole in your belly
Thirteen years old
in the suburbs of Denver
standing in line
for Thanksgiving dinner
at the Catholic church
the servers wore crosses
to shield from the sufferance
plaguing the others
Styrofoam plates, cafeteria tables
charity reeks of cheap wine and pity
and I'm thinking of you
I do every year
When we count all our blessings
And wonder what we're doing here.
You're a disgrace
to the concept of family
the priest won't divulge
that fact in his homily
and I'll stand up and scream
if the mourning remain quiet
you can deck out a lie
in a suit but I won't buy it
I won't join in the procession
that's speaking their peace
using five-dollar words
while praising his integrity
and just 'cause he's gone
it doesn't change the fact
he was a bastard in life
thus a bastard in death