關於 down by the station lyrics ，我們在網路上蒐集到這些相關的討論、資訊與評價

Satisfied- An Original Song from Lisa's song mind

Lisa Hui: Lyrics, melody and Harmony
Awesome Music: Arrangement and Mixing

When I wrote this song I was completely heart broken and had a really hard time recording it. Have you ever felt broken hearted and disappointed by love?
I entered the recording studio three times trying to record this song but each time I left in tears. I couldn't complete the recording. By the forth time I kept crying and crying. I kept asking myself what should I do? At that time I was no longer able to stay in Canada. I was ready to return to Hong Kong and my departure could not be delayed. How could I finish recording if I couldn't stop crying? So I tried again no matter how exhausted I was. I was crying in the studio and I recorded for many hours until it was 4 am. The main melody was recorded and I still felt it was not enough... something was still missing. So I added a few more harmonies to the last chorus to make it sound more full. When the harmonies in the last chorus were done, I felt relieved and was sure this is what I wanted. It gives a perfect “soul” addition to this R and B style of song. I always improvise, sing and record as many tracks as possible to make my original songs as best as they can be .

After all, this song was really about Lisa on the verge of collapse. On the emotional edge between wondering and loss. The psychedelic and unrealistic feeling that made Lisa 's impromptu chorus gives the song it's soul.

"Satisfied" tells us we don't need to be down to be satisfied.
Waiting for someone to come back to you, the long nights of pain and suffering. But gradually she had lost her instinct to take care of herself, the pain had entangled her heart everyday and time gradually passed away.
It is almost impossible to let go of the only "he" in your heart that you care about and trust. Can you understand?
But everything is reality and it is cruel. When we wake up and think about it, as long as we have loved, owned, sincerely loved and enjoyed the romantic times we should be "Satisfied".
Throughout writing and recording this song Lisa was in a state of mind that couldn't let go of the entanglement. However, in the face of cruel reality and suppressed emotions that cannot be controlled the inspiration for 'Satisfied" crystallized.
This is the second song written after "It Doesn't Matter". Although it says "it doesn't matter", I still can't let go of it in my heart, and I have to convince myself to be "Satisfied".

This song has been played on stations such as "A1 Chinese Radio Toronto" ,”Industrial Radio station "The Road and us", "Taiwan Radio's Independent Music Lecture eps.28"and shown live on Fairchild Television

心滿意足
作词作曲&和音：许静雯Lisa Hui 编曲混合：Awesome Studio

Lisa 的創作心靈：
經過漫長有如地獄般的愛情歷練，無論終點是什麼風景，我們都應該懂得＂心滿意足＂。
寫這首歌曲的時候真的是心力交碎，而且碎得一塌糊塗，那種對愛情失望而破碎的心靈，你有感受過嗎？
錄製這首歌曲時候，進了三次錄音室，都是淚流滿面的走出來，沒有一次成功的完成錄音。到第四次時候更是崩潰嚎哭，我不斷問自己應該怎麼辦？ 那時候加拿大已經不能再給我停留，要準備回香港了，事情已經不能再拖延，不錄完就真的前功盡廢了，每次都哭得停不了，怎麼可以完成呢？
於是再次豁出去，在錄音室一邊哭一邊錄，錄了好多個小時，直到凌晨4點多。才錄完主音旋律。錄完了之後又感覺少了些壓迫力，畢竟這首歌真的讓Lisa迷失在崩潰邊緣，那種疑幻疑真，徘徊得失之間的情感邊緣，迷幻而不實在的感覺，令Lisa決定在最後段的副歌部分多加幾重和聲。Lisa當刻隨心即興的和唱讓這個原本R&B的歌曲有了自己的靈魂。
「 心滿意足」告訴我們，懂得當刻的放下才能領匯心滿意足。
等待一個人回到妳的身邊，那種漫漫長夜的痛苦煎熬，日夜顛倒，自己卻逐漸失去了照顧自己的本能，每日心裡痛苦糾纏，歲月與時光同步逐漸逝去。
要努力的放下心裡唯一掛念和信任的那個「他」，近乎不可能，你能懂嗎？可是現實的一切一切，都太殘酷了...
當醒覺的那刻倒過來想，只要愛過，擁有過，自問真心愛過，享受過浪漫熱戀的時段，我們都應該「心滿意足」了吧。
雖然寫這首歌和錄唱的時候，Lisa還是處於沒放下糾纏的心態。可是面對現實的殘酷，壓抑著的情感是無法控制，激發了無可奈何的「心滿意足」的出現。�
这首是繼＂沒關係＂之後寫的第二首歌曲，雖然說“沒關係”，可是心裡還是放不下， 也得說服自己要“心滿意足”。

這首歌有在「A1 Chinese Radio Toronto Canada」有播放過，，與商業電台 嘅《馬路的事 我哋的事》， 還有台灣電台「獨立音樂講堂 -第二十八集」（DJ罐頭）。

Photo taken by potato
VIdeo edit by Lisa Hui
Youtube : https://youtu.be/8mT3fVvyu5Y
Instagram : https://www.instagram.com/lisahui94/

Nobody’s Fool　　( January 2011 )

Yoshitomo Nara

Do people look to my childhood for sources of my imagery? Back then, the snow-covered fields of the north were about as far away as you could get from the rapid economic growth happening elsewhere. Both my parents worked and my brothers were much older, so the only one home to greet me when I got back from elementary school was a stray cat we’d taken in. Even so, this was the center of my world. In my lonely room, I would twist the radio dial to the American military base station and out blasted rock and roll music. One of history’s first man-made satellites revolved around me up in the night sky. There I was, in touch with the stars and radio waves.

It doesn’t take much imagination to envision how a lonely childhood in such surroundings might give rise to the sensibility in my work. In fact, I also used to believe in this connection. I would close my eyes and conjure childhood scenes, letting my imagination amplify them like the music coming from my speakers.

But now, past the age of fifty and more cool-headed, I’ve begun to wonder how big a role childhood plays in making us who we are as adults. Looking through reproductions of the countless works I’ve made between my late twenties and now, I get the feeling that childhood experiences were merely a catalyst. My art derives less from the self-centered instincts of childhood than from the day-to-day sensory experiences of an adult who has left this realm behind. And, ultimately, taking the big steps pales in importance to the daily need to keep on walking.

While I was in high school, before I had anything to do with art, I worked part-time in a rock café. There I became friends with a graduate student of mathematics who one day started telling me, in layman’s terms, about his major in topology. His explanation made the subject seem less like a branch of mathematics than some fascinating organic philosophy. My understanding is that topology offers you a way to discover the underlying sameness of countless, seemingly disparate, forms. Conversely, it explains why many people, when confronted with apparently identical things, will accept a fake as the genuine article. I later went on to study art, live in Germany, and travel around the world, and the broader perspective I’ve gained has shown me that topology has long been a subtext of my thinking. The more we add complexity, the more we obscure what is truly valuable. Perhaps the reason I began, in the mid-90s, trying to make paintings as simple as possible stems from that introduction to topology gained in my youth.

As a kid listening to U.S. armed-forces radio, I had no idea what the lyrics meant, but I loved the melody and rhythm of the music. In junior high school, my friends and I were already discussing rock and roll like credible music critics, and by the time I started high school, I was hanging out in rock coffee shops and going to live shows. We may have been a small group of social outcasts, but the older kids, who smoked cigarettes and drank, talked to us all night long about movies they’d seen or books they’d read. If the nighttime student quarter had been the school, I’m sure I would have been a straight-A student.

In the 80s, I left my hometown to attend art school, where I was anything but an honors student. There, a model student was one who brought a researcher’s focus to the work at hand. Your bookshelves were stacked with catalogues and reference materials. When you weren’t working away in your studio, you were meeting with like-minded classmates to discuss art past and present, including your own. You were hoping to set new trends in motion. Wholly lacking any grand ambition, I fell well short of this model, with most of my paintings done to satisfy class assignments. I was, however, filling every one of my notebooks, sketchbooks, and scraps of wrapping paper with crazy, graffiti-like drawings.

Looking back on my younger days—Where did where all that sparkling energy go? I used the money from part-time jobs to buy record albums instead of art supplies and catalogues. I went to movies and concerts, hung out with my girlfriend, did funky drawings on paper, and made midnight raids on friends whose boarding-room lights still happened to be on. I spent the passions of my student days outside the school studio. This is not to say I wasn’t envious of the kids who earned the teachers’ praise or who debuted their talents in early exhibitions. Maybe envy is the wrong word. I guess I had the feeling that we were living in separate worlds. Like puffs of cigarette smoke or the rock songs from my speaker, my adolescent energies all vanished in the sky.

Being outside the city and surrounded by rice fields, my art school had no art scene to speak of—I imagined the art world existing in some unknown dimension, like that of TV or the movies. At the time, art could only be discussed in a Western context, and, therefore, seemed unreal. But just as every country kid dreams of life in the big city, this shaky art-school student had visions of the dazzling, far-off realm of contemporary art. Along with this yearning was an equally strong belief that I didn’t deserve admittance to such a world. A typical provincial underachiever!

I did, however, love to draw every day and the scrawled sketches, never shown to anybody, started piling up. Like journal entries reflecting the events of each day, they sometimes intersected memories from the past. My little everyday world became a trigger for the imagination, and I learned to develop and capture the imagery that arose. I was, however, still a long way off from being able to translate those countless images from paper to canvas.

Visions come to us through daydreams and fantasies. Our emotional reaction towards these images makes them real. Listening to my record collection gave me a similar experience. Before the Internet, the precious little information that did exist was to be found in the two or three music magazines available. Most of my records were imported—no liner notes or lyric sheets in Japanese. No matter how much I liked the music, living in a non-English speaking world sadly meant limited access to the meaning of the lyrics. The music came from a land of societal, religious, and subcultural sensibilities apart from my own, where people moved their bodies to it in a different rhythm. But that didn’t stop me from loving it. I never got tired of poring over every inch of the record jackets on my 12-inch vinyl LPs. I took the sounds and verses into my body. Amidst today’s superabundance of information, choosing music is about how best to single out the right album. For me, it was about making the most use of scant information to sharpen my sensibilities, imagination, and conviction. It might be one verse, melody, guitar riff, rhythmic drum beat or bass line, or record jacket that would inspire me and conjure up fresh imagery. Then, with pencil in hand, I would draw these images on paper, one after the other. Beyond good or bad, the pictures had a will of their own, inhabiting the torn pages with freedom and friendliness.

By the time I graduated from university, my painting began to approach the independence of my drawing. As a means for me to represent a world that was mine and mine alone, the paintings may not have been as nimble as the drawings, but I did them without any preliminary sketching. Prizing feelings that arose as I worked, I just kept painting and over-painting until I gained a certain freedom and the sense, though vague at the time, that I had established a singular way of putting images onto canvas. Yet, I hadn’t reached the point where I could declare that I would paint for the rest of my life.

After receiving my undergraduate degree, I entered the graduate school of my university and got a part-time job teaching at an art yobiko—a prep school for students seeking entrance to an art college. As an instructor, training students how to look at and compose things artistically, meant that I also had to learn how to verbalize my thoughts and feelings. This significant growth experience not only allowed me to take stock of my life at the time, but also provided a refreshing opportunity to connect with teenage hearts and minds.

And idealism! Talking to groups of art students, I naturally found myself describing the ideals of an artist. A painful experience for me—I still had no sense of myself as an artist. The more the students showed their affection for me, the more I felt like a failed artist masquerading as a sensei (teacher). After completing my graduate studies, I kept working as a yobiko instructor. And in telling students about the path to becoming an artist, I began to realize that I was still a student myself, with many things yet to learn. I felt that I needed to become a true art student. I decided to study in Germany. The day I left the city where I had long lived, many of my students appeared on the platform to see me off.

Life as a student in Germany was a happy time. I originally intended to go to London, but for economic reasons chose a tuition-free, and, fortunately, academism-free German school. Personal approaches coexisted with conceptual ones, and students tried out a wide range of modes of expression. Technically speaking, we were all students, but each of us brought a creator’s spirit to the fore. The strong wills and opinions of the local students, though, were well in place before they became artists thanks to the German system of early education. As a reticent foreign student from a far-off land, I must have seemed like a mute child. I decided that I would try to make myself understood not through words, but through having people look at my pictures. When winter came and leaden clouds filled the skies, I found myself slipping back to the winters of my childhood. Forgoing attempts to speak in an unknown language, I redoubled my efforts to express myself through visions of my private world. Thinking rather than talking, then illustrating this thought process in drawings and, finally, realizing it in a painting. Instead of defeating you in an argument, I wanted to invite you inside me. Here I was, in a most unexpected place, rediscovering a value that I thought I had lost—I felt that I had finally gained the ability to learn and think, that I had become a student in the truest sense of the word.

But I still wasn’t your typical honors student. My paintings clearly didn’t look like contemporary art, and nobody would say my images fit in the context of European painting. They did, however, catch the gaze of dealers who, with their antennae out for young artists, saw my paintings as new objects that belonged less to the singular world of art and more to the realm of everyday life. Several were impressed by the freshness of my art, and before I knew it, I was invited to hold exhibitions in established galleries—a big step into a wider world.

The six years that I spent in Germany after completing my studies and before returning to Japan were golden days, both for me and my work. Every day and every night, I worked tirelessly to fix onto canvas all the visions that welled up in my head. My living space/studio was in a dreary, concrete former factory building on the outskirts of Cologne. It was the center of my world. Late at night, my surroundings were enveloped in darkness, but my studio was brightly lit. The songs of folk poets flowed out of my speakers. In that place, standing in front of the canvas sometimes felt like traveling on a solitary voyage in outer space—a lonely little spacecraft floating in the darkness of the void. My spaceship could go anywhere in this fantasy while I was painting, even to the edge of the universe.

Suddenly one day, I was flung outside—my spaceship was to be scrapped. My little vehicle turned back into an old concrete building, one that was slated for destruction because it was falling apart. Having lost the spaceship that had accompanied me on my lonely travels, and lacking the energy to look for a new studio, I immediately decided that I might as well go back to my homeland. It was painful and sad to leave the country where I had lived for twelve years and the handful of people I could call friends. But I had lost my ship. The only place I thought to land was my mother country, where long ago those teenagers had waved me goodbye and, in retrospect, whose letters to me while I was in Germany were a valuable source of fuel.

After my long space flight, I returned to Japan with the strange sense of having made a full orbit around the planet. The new studio was a little warehouse on the outskirts of Tokyo, in an area dotted with rice fields and small factories. When the wind blew, swirls of dust slipped in through the cracks, and water leaked down the walls in heavy rains. In my dilapidated warehouse, only one sheet of corrugated metal separated me from the summer heat and winter cold. Despite the funky environment, I was somehow able to keep in midnight contact with the cosmos—the beings I had drawn and painted in Germany began to mature. The emotional quality of the earlier work gave way to a new sense of composure. I worked at refining the former impulsiveness of the drawings and the monochromatic, almost reverent, backgrounds of the paintings. In my pursuit of fresh imagery, I switched from idle experimentation to a more workmanlike approach towards capturing what I saw beyond the canvas.

Children and animals—what simple motifs! Appearing on neat canvases or in ephemeral drawings, these figures are easy on the viewers’ eyes. Occasionally, they shake off my intentions and leap to the feet of their audience, never to return. Because my motifs are accessible, they are often only understood on a superficial level. Sometimes art that results from a long process of development receives only shallow general acceptance, and those who should be interpreting it fail to do so, either through a lack of knowledge or insufficient powers of expression. Take, for example, the music of a specific era. People who lived during this era will naturally appreciate the music that was then popular. Few of these listeners, however, will know, let alone value, the music produced by minor labels, by introspective musicians working under the radar, because it’s music that’s made in answer to an individual’s desire, not the desires of the times. In this way, people who say that “Nara loves rock,” or “Nara loves punk” should see my album collection. Of four thousand records there are probably fewer than fifty punk albums. I do have a lot of 60s and 70s rock and roll, but most of my music is from little labels that never saw commercial success—traditional roots music by black musicians and white musicians, and contemplative folk. The spirit of any era gives birth to trends and fashions as well as their opposite: countless introspective individual worlds. A simultaneous embrace of both has cultivated my sensibility and way of thinking. My artwork is merely the tip of the iceberg that is my self. But if you analyzed the DNA from this tip, you would probably discover a new way of looking at my art. My viewers become a true audience when they take what I’ve made and make it their own. That’s the moment the works gain their freedom, even from their maker.

After contemplative folk singers taught me about deep empathy, the punk rockers schooled me in explosive expression.

I was born on this star, and I’m still breathing. Since childhood, I’ve been a jumble of things learned and experienced and memories that can’t be forgotten. Their involuntary locomotion is my inspiration. I don’t express in words the contents of my work. I’ll only tell you my history. The countless stories living inside my work would become mere fabrications the moment I put them into words. Instead, I use my pencil to turn them into pictures. Standing before the dark abyss, here’s hoping my spaceship launches safely tonight….

YOYO點點名最新完整版►►https://bit.ly/2ORbaKl

【歌詞 lyrics】

Chugga Chugga Chugga Chugga
Chugga Chugga Clang Clang
Chugga Chugga Chugga Chugga
Chugga Chugga Clang Clang
Choo Choo All Aboarod

Down by the Station Early in the Morning
See the Little Puffer Bellies All in a Row
See the Engine Driver Pull the little handle
Chug Chug Toot Toot Off We Go

#兒歌 #DownByTheStation #ToddlerSongs #rhymes #YOYO點點名 #YOYOMAN小學堂

★★寶貝學習推薦★★
YOYO熱門唱跳專區
►►http://bit.ly/yoyohotmusic
YOYO最新唱跳MV
►►https://bit.ly/2JDnUvS
畫畫魔法
►►https://bit.ly/2URQDYC
碰碰狐MV
►►http://bit.ly/2QtgPqd
YOYO卡通綜合包
►►https://bit.ly/2Wzt4Ue
超級總動員
►►https://bit.ly/2w5r73B


【訂閱YOYOTV】►►https://goo.gl/PCO1FZ

?SHEET MUSIC & Mp3 ▸ http://www.makhonkit.com
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?Listen on Apple Music ▸ https://music.apple.com/sg/artist/ray-mak/1498802526
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Upon Request on Instagram

Lyrics:

hello sweet grief
I know you will be the death of me
feel like the morning after ecstasy
I am drowning in an endless sea

hello old friend
here’s the misery that knows no end
so I am doing everything I can
to make sure I never love again

I wish that I did not know
where all broken lovers go
I wish that my heart was made of stone

Yeah if I was bulletproof
I’d love you black and blue
If I was solid like a jewel

If I had a diamond heart
oh oh
I’d give you all my love
If I was unbreakable

If I had a diamond heart
oh oh
You could shoot me with a gun of gold
If I was unbreakable

I’d walk straight through the bullet
bendin’ like a tulip
blue-eyed and foolish
never mind the bruises
into the fire
breakin’ through the wires
give you all I’ve got

If I had a diamond heart

I’d walk straight through the dagger
never break the pattern
diamonds don’t shatter
beautiful and battered
into the poison
cry you an ocean
give you all I’ve got

If I had a diamond heart

goodbye, so long
I don’t know if this is right or wrong
am I giving up where I belong?
’cause every station is playing our song

goodbye my love
you are everything my dreams are made of
you’ll be Prince and I’m the crying dove
If I only were unbreakable

I wish that I did not know
where all broken lovers go
I wish that my heart was made of stone

Yeah if I was bulletproof
I’d love you black and blue
If I was solid like a jewel

If I had a diamond heart
oh oh
I’d give you all my love
If I was unbreakable

If I had a diamond heart
oh oh
You could shoot me with a gun of gold
If I was unbreakable

I’d walk straight through the bullet
bendin’ like a tulip
blue-eyed and foolish
never mind the bruises
into the fire
breakin’ through the wires
give you all I’ve got

If I had a diamond heart

I’d walk straight through the dagger
never break the pattern
diamonds don’t shatter
beautiful and battered
into the poison
cry you an ocean
give you all I’ve got

If I had a diamond heart

#DiamondHeart #AlanWalker #SophiaSomajo #WorldOfWalker

今日はリクエストにお応えしてAqua Timezの「しおり」を英語で歌ってみました♪
初めてAqua Timezをカバーしましたが、好きなバンドなのでまた歌いたいと思います！

ちなみに、どうしてタイトルが「しおり」になっているのか気になって調べたところ、最後の歌詞では物語がまだ終わっていないので、「今日はここまで」という意味を込めて「しおり」にしたみたいです！ヾ(@゜▽゜@)ノ

English cover of "Shiori" (Bookmark) by Japanese band Aqua Times.
This is my first cover of Aqua Timez, but I love their songs so I will do more in the future.

The title seems kind of random, but according to the band, it's called "Bookmark" because the story is not yet completely finished with the final lyrics. Interesting!

～♪～♪～♪～♪～♪～
曲情報 / SONG INFO
～♪～♪～♪～♪～♪～

Aqua Timez / Shiori (Bookmark)
Album: Dareka no Chijo-e (2007)
Music/Lyrics: Futoshi (Aqua Timez)
English Lyrics: Rebecca Butler Watanabe

■Official MV
https://youtu.be/CjhpyPx-YFU

～♪～♪～♪～♪～♪～
リンク / LINKS
～♪～♪～♪～♪～♪～

■HP⇒ http://BlueEyedUtaUtai.jimdo.com
■Facebook⇒ http://facebook.com/blueeyedutautai
■Twitter⇒ @BlueEyedUtaUtai

～♪～♪～♪～♪～♪～
歌詞 / LYRICS
～♪～♪～♪～♪～♪～

Running down the riverbank to our old rendezvous
It’s just a little further ‘til the clock comes into view
You couldn’t whistle if your life demanded it
It wasn’t very far from here where I taught you the trick

I wonder how many suns
How many times the Earth has spun
Since I made my mind up
To burn that old frame filled with memories
How many days have you been gone?

In the gentle breeze I’d rush to that spot
On the way from school at five on the dot
I would wait for you underneath the clock
Tower in front of the train station
Always two minutes, thirty seconds late
You would jog up with a smile on your face
And I would hold you tight, take your hand in mine
On those evenings long ago under the twilight

I took my time in suffering every way that I could think
But in the end I couldn’t find an answer that made sense
So I threw all those so-called promises into the passing breeze
And started focusing my mind on the future I could weave

I knew that I would be alright
But maybe once you realize
That beautiful scenery
Will move on and disappear someday
The skies always look a little gray

Like a flower decorating a room
Or a quiet day just after twelve noon
We can find the joy in the little things
Simple wonders in the everyday
If the flow of time has taught us one thing
It’s that by the time we’re back to living
Within the present tense, there’s so much we’ve missed
As the present slips away in front of our eyes

You and I… (x3)

As the clock upon the tower strikes five
Just two minutes, thirty seconds ‘til I’d
See you come this way, just like every day
And we’d walk together hand-in-hand
Now the sound of my feet echo alone
But it’s not so bad to walk on my own
Though it will take some time ‘til I’m truly fine
And can face tomorrow once again

In the gentle breeze under the blue sky
Tell me, what was reflected in your eyes
As you walked today? What was on your mind?
What was it that you were wishing?
Well, I couldn’t say where happiness lies
That’s a secret I have yet to realize
I just look to the sky far above and I
Say, “You were in my heart once more today, girl”

You and I… (x3)