《Farewell To Pripchat》是John McDermott演唱的歌曲，由Tim Donnehy作詞，收錄於專輯《Old Friends》。
基本介紹
- 外文名：Farewell To Pripchat
- 所屬專輯：Old Friends
- 歌曲原唱：John McDermott
- 填詞：Tim Donnehy
- 發行日期：2005年4月5日
- 歌曲語言：英語
歌曲歌詞
Friday in april 1986
The day that nightmare begun
When the dust it fell down
On our buildings and streets
And entered our buildings at noon
Touched the grass and trees bicycyles cars
Beds books and picture frames too
We stood around helpless confused
Nobody knew what to do
At two o'clocks sunday the buses arrived
A fleet of a thousand or more
We were ordered to be on our way
Not knowing what lay in store
Some of our citizens fled in dismay
And looked for a good place to hide
Four o'clock came
And the last bus pulled out
T'was the day that our lively town died
And the shirts sheets and hankerchiefs cracks in the wind
On the window ledge the withering plants
And the ladas and volgas are parked by the door
And the bikes in it's usual stance
Our evergreen tree lies withered and drooped
They've poisoned our fertile land
The streets speak a deafening silence
Nothing stirs but the sand
A visit back home is so eerie today
A modern pompei in view
To see all the old shops
Ond the forest hotel
And the promyet cinema too
The momentos we gathered all left behind
Our photos and letters and cards
The toys of our children untouchable now
Toy soldiers left standing on guard
Fare thee well pripchat my home and my soul
Your sorrow can know no relief
A terrifying glimpse of the future you show
Your children all scattered like geese
The clothes lines still sways but the owners long gone
As the nomadic era returns
The questions in black and white blurred into grey
The answer is too easy to learn
And the shirts sheets and hankerchiefs cracks in the wind
On the window ledge the withering plants
And the ladas and volgas are parked by the door
And the bikes in it's usual stance
Our evergreen tree lies withered and drooped
They've poisoned our fertile land
The streets speak a deafening silence
Nothing stirs but the sand
And the shirts sheets and hankerchiefs cracks in the wind
On the window ledge the withering plants
And the ladas and volgas are parked by the door
And the bikes in it's usual stance
Our evergreen tree lies withered and drooped
They've poisoned our fertile land
The streets speak a deafening silence
Nothing stirs
But the sand
