lirik lagu dust – emmeline
it was a very good year for village girls, in sea green tights
when i built up that sequence right
donned my actors cap, and bowed, to captains at the back
i’m here with a crown of flora and fauna
born in disorder to west california
a golden girl in silver robes, with sceptre held to save the stone
they said play me the role you were born to play
what did they tell you of life, that midsummer day?
the furies depend on your mightiest rage
your time will be made when you take to the stage
it’s the comedy of tragedies, the error of our ways
play it up to play it down and play it back again
enter left to take a right and back around to take the night
then straight on till morning
i’m peter pan it’s like…
golden lads and girls all must
like chimney sweepers come to dust
folk who grace the silver stage
with dying arms can never age
and music men with ballads bright
are given wings with every night
and i with cheeks that softly blush
like starry nights, am full of dust
if i didn’t answer don’t panic i was busy, living
with my i*dos and i*didn’ts
sold many good rhythms to my past life
i made many good riddance with my past life
was a comedy of tragedies, baby play your part
someone told me put the pen down, if you don’t make a mark
wrote the ending like the start, greatness on arrival
if i died on my knees, i said i prayer for all my rivals
karma kind of spiteful but i like her, she an eiffel
eye for an eye but if i miss then it was my fault
romeo and juliet, the kiss could be to die for
if i’m not remembered then i question what i tried for
who do i provide for? maybe i should lie more?
the medicine is sweeter if i hide it in a trifle
maybe i should cry more, say what’s on my mind more
the list of all my problems is a mouthful and a mindful
eating everything like a peter pan diet
moment of silence while my thoughts get quiet
golden lads and girls all must
like chimney sweepers come to dust
folk who grace the silver stage
with dying arms can never age
and music men with ballads bright
are given wings with every night
and i with cheeks that softly blush
like starry nights, am full of dust
eating everything like a peter pan diet
moment of silence while my thoughts get quiet
golden lads and girls all must
like chimney sweepers come to dust
folk who grace the silver stage
with dying arms can never age
and music men with ballads bright
are given wings with every night
and i with cheeks that softly blush
like starry nights, am full of dust
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