Создатели
ИСПОЛНИТЕЛИ
Suede
Исполнитель
Brett Anderson
Вокал
Richard Oakes
Гитара
Neil Codling
Синтезатор
Mat Osman
Бас
Lucie Svehlová
Первая скрипка
Guy Protheroe
Дирижер
Simon Gilbert
Барабаны
The City of Prague Philharmonic Orchestra
Оркестр
МУЗЫКА И СЛОВА
Brett Anderson
Композитор
Richard Oakes
Композитор
Neil Codling
Аранжировщик оркестра
ПРОДЮСЕРЫ И ЗВУКОРЕЖИССЕРЫ
Neil Codling
Дополнительный продюсер
Michael Hradisky
Ассистент инженера
Caesar Edmunds
Инженер
Richie Kennedy
Инженер
Tom Herbert
Инженер
Geoff Pesche
Мастеринг-инженер
Alan Moulder
Миксинг-инженер
Vitek Kral
Инженер звукозаписи
Слова
I watch you drift away
Around the room in that dress
The jewels on your bracelets
I've seen their best
I watch the sweat fall
Against your clothes
I've seen the look on the faces
I think they know
That the clock is ticking away
And the wind is calling us
And the pleasantries will chain us
No more
When it all is much too much?
We'll run to the wastelands
Where the snow is all there is
And words sound different
When it all is much too much?
Meet me in the wastelands
Where the fear will fade away
Where the children in us play
I walk the smoky room
And stumble into you
The chattering of their faces
Says nothing new
But the clock is ticking away
And the wind is calling us
And the way you make your exit
There are no words
Would it hurt us much too much?
We'll run to the wastelands
At the car beside the road
And taking shelter
Would it hurt us much too much?
Meet me in the wastelands
Where the heart will slowly face
Where the children in us play
When the world is much too much
We'll run to the wastelands
Leave footprints in the snow
Till our ties are severed
When it hurts us too much to much
Meet me in the wastelands
Make a chain of flowers
Like our ties are severed
When the world is much too much
Meet me in the wastelands
At the car beside the road
And taking shelter
When the world is much too much
Meet me there in the wastelands
And the wind is on our face
And our veins are opened
When the world is much too much
Meet me in the wastelands
Make a chain of flowers
And the children in us play
The sky was steely
The countryside was bare
Twigs crackled under Mole's feet
Mole was alone
And far from help
And night was closing in
Writer(s): Brett Lewis Anderson, Richard John Oakes
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