[00:00.000] 作词 : Shengcai Huang
[00:00.000] 作曲 : Shengcai Huang
[00:00.000]Music and lyrics by Shengcai Huang
[00:13.001]
[00:24.209]He wept for a girl who preferred the shine of gold,
[00:31.481]A hollow despair, or so the moon was told.
[00:37.899]I watched from the shadows, a voyeur of his grief,
[00:44.147]Mistaking his tantrum for a lover’s belief.
[00:51.318]I didn't love him; I loved the shape of his ache,
[00:56.867]A beautiful ruin I was desperate to make.
[01:03.025]
[01:03.383]I begged the white rose for a drop of the sun,
[01:07.009]It whispered, “The ritual has only begun.
[01:10.214]Music is cheap, and words are but breath,
[01:13.474]The only true pigment is the color of death.”
[01:16.562]
[01:16.690]So I pressed my heart against the silver thorn,
[01:22.569]A masterpiece of blood, in the moonlight born.
[01:29.001]I sang until the silence tasted like iron and cold,
[01:35.032]To give him a story that was never meant to be told.
[01:43.795]He never knew my name, he only saw the prize,
[01:49.874]I died for the vanity in my own eyes.
[01:57.645]
[01:57.787]He ran with the rose, a trophy in his fist,
[02:04.100]To a heart of stone that he thought he had kissed.
[02:10.495]She threw it in the gutter, beneath the carriage wheel,
[02:16.629]For a diamond has a weight that a flower can’t feel.
[02:24.213]He cursed the heavens, he cursed the very ground,
[02:29.795]But never heard the ghost of my last, lonely sound.
[02:36.284]
[02:36.434]Was I the martyr, or just a fool for the stage?
[02:39.778]Carving my ghost into a gilded cage.
[02:43.027]I didn’t bleed for love, I bled to be seen,
[02:46.201]To be the most tragic thing that has ever been.
[02:49.411]Is the red rose enough? Is the gutter too deep?
[02:55.465]Or are we just monsters who love our own grief?
[03:09.046]
[03:30.985]So let the petals rot where the gray water flows,
[03:37.019]No one is saved by a blood-stained rose.
[03:43.380]If love is a debt that you pay with your life,
[03:49.774]Then you’re just the victim, and I am the knife.
[03:56.610]I was no saint, I was no holy prayer,
[04:02.705]Just a nightingale starving for a gaze that wasn't there.
[04:12.231]
[04:12.630]The gutter is full.
[04:17.822]The song is thin.
[04:24.258]We lose the game
[04:30.607]Before we begin.
[04:39.406]

作词 : Shengcai Huang
作曲 : Shengcai Huang
Music and lyrics by Shengcai Huang
He wept for a girl who preferred the shine of gold,
A hollow despair, or so the moon was told.
I watched from the shadows, a voyeur of his grief,
Mistaking his tantrum for a lover’s belief.
I didn't love him; I loved the shape of his ache,
A beautiful ruin I was desperate to make.
I begged the white rose for a drop of the sun,
It whispered, “The ritual has only begun.
Music is cheap, and words are but breath,
The only true pigment is the color of death.”
So I pressed my heart against the silver thorn,
A masterpiece of blood, in the moonlight born.
I sang until the silence tasted like iron and cold,
To give him a story that was never meant to be told.
He never knew my name, he only saw the prize,
I died for the vanity in my own eyes.
He ran with the rose, a trophy in his fist,
To a heart of stone that he thought he had kissed.
She threw it in the gutter, beneath the carriage wheel,
For a diamond has a weight that a flower can’t feel.
He cursed the heavens, he cursed the very ground,
But never heard the ghost of my last, lonely sound.
Was I the martyr, or just a fool for the stage?
Carving my ghost into a gilded cage.
I didn’t bleed for love, I bled to be seen,
To be the most tragic thing that has ever been.
Is the red rose enough? Is the gutter too deep?
Or are we just monsters who love our own grief?
So let the petals rot where the gray water flows,
No one is saved by a blood-stained rose.
If love is a debt that you pay with your life,
Then you’re just the victim, and I am the knife.
I was no saint, I was no holy prayer,
Just a nightingale starving for a gaze that wasn't there.
The gutter is full.
The song is thin.
We lose the game
Before we begin.