作词 : Chris Thile
作曲 : Chris Thile
Lead me to some holy place
Then shut my eyes that I might taste
Your land, your sky, your sea
I'll sing you what I see, Lord
I'll sing you what I see
And when we're in that holy place
Plug up my ears that I might taste
Our days, our months, our years
And I'll dance you what I hear, Lord
I'll dance you what I hear
It's the prayer of a species at war
With itself since the day it was born
O Dionysus
Come and wash our minds
Clean of wants and wishes
That keep us so damn far behind the eight ball
Always set to fight or fly
I fly to the pleasures of your table every night
Trying to make light of the battle with a buddy and a bottle of the blood of Dionysus
Come and stain our teeth
With your purple kisses
And help us find our way beneath the surface
Of each other's ingrown lives
Then meet me at the cellar door
Where the heirs of Dionysus pour
The soul of time and space
And we'll play them what we taste, Lord
Let's play them what we taste
