歌词
Then we ate in the basement,
and the dining room was vacant,
was the telephone laying low?
Or are we left all alone,
houses hold their stories own.
Of transient ghosts.
Ghosts
Ghosts
Ghosts
The peopling of London,
oceans of empty rooms.
Flex your skeleton,
your wooden guns
in the cemetery of storefronts,
where the floor buckled under us.
When dead air blows you go,
keep talk cheap and know
the seeking of secret ghosts.
Ghosts
Ghosts
Ghosts
The peopling of London,
towers of human hearts
专辑信息