Luv sic pt.3 発音記号

投稿者: Auther | 3 年, 3 ヶ月前 | 0 のコメント

It's funny how the music put times in perspective	ɪts ˈfʌni haʊ ðə ˈmjuːzɪk pʊt taɪmz ɪn pəˈspɛktɪv
Add a soundtrack to your life and perfect it	æd ə ˈsaʊndtræk tuː jɔː laɪf ænd ˈpɜːfɪkt ɪt
Whenever you are feeling blue keep walking and we can get far	wɛnˈɛvə juː ɑː ˈfiːlɪŋ bluː kiːp ˈwɔːkɪŋ ænd wiː kæn gɛt fɑː
Wherever you are	weərˈɛvə juː ɑː

Like a movie that you can't predict	laɪk ə ˈmuːvi ðæt juː kɑːnt prɪˈdɪkt
Like a book that you can't resist	laɪk ə bʊk ðæt juː kɑːnt rɪˈzɪst
I sing along a song that's oh so sensual	aɪ sɪŋ əˈlɒŋ ə sɒŋ ðæts əʊ səʊ ˈsɛnsjʊəl
bring along a sip to make it all so sexual	brɪŋ əˈlɒŋ ə sɪp tuː meɪk ɪt ɔːl səʊ ˈsɛksjʊəl
verbally that is, making love to the music means vibing to the beat at night	ˈvɜːbəli ðæt ɪz, ˈmeɪkɪŋ lʌv tuː ðə ˈmjuːzɪk miːnz ˈvaɪbɪŋ tuː ðə biːt æt naɪt
with the whole city fast asleep, out cold	wɪð ðə həʊl ˈsɪti fɑːst əˈsliːp, aʊt kəʊld
true words seem to rise to the lips, take hold	truː wɜːdz siːm tuː raɪz tuː ðə lɪps, teɪk həʊld
of a poet in me, most powerfully	ɒv ə ˈpəʊɪt ɪn miː, məʊst ˈpaʊəfʊli
I feel free when the world doesn't owe it to me	aɪ fiːl friː wɛn ðə wɜːld dʌznt əʊ ɪt tuː miː
It's so hard to find a gig that lives up to the billing,	ɪts səʊ hɑːd tuː faɪnd ə gɪg ðæt lɪvz ʌp tuː ðə ˈbɪlɪŋ,
trying to find a reason to work, god willing	ˈtraɪɪŋ tuː faɪnd ə ˈriːzn tuː wɜːk, gɒd ˈwɪlɪŋ
I admit, my thinking is wishful	aɪ ədˈmɪt, maɪ ˈθɪŋkɪŋ ɪz ˈwɪʃfʊl
like a star upon a child gazing up to the ceiling	laɪk ə stɑːr əˈpɒn ə ʧaɪld ˈgeɪzɪŋ ʌp tuː ðə ˈsiːlɪŋ
how far do we have to stretch the truth	haʊ fɑː duː wiː hæv tuː strɛʧ ðə truːθ
to fit the lifestyles borrowed and overdue	tuː fɪt ðə ˈlaɪfˌstaɪlz ˈbɒrəʊd ænd ˌəʊvəˈdjuː
we can take it all back to the register	wiː kæn teɪk ɪt ɔːl bæk tuː ðə ˈrɛʤɪstə
and start all over from the canister	ænd stɑːt ɔːl ˈəʊvə frɒm ðə ˈkænɪstə
let's break it all down into pieces of bright	lɛts breɪk ɪt ɔːl daʊn ˈɪntuː ˈpiːsɪz ɒv braɪt
moments that pass by like a meteorite	ˈməʊmənts ðæt pɑːs baɪ laɪk ə ˈmiːtiəraɪt
throw on your favorite reel that's good to go	θrəʊ ɒn jɔː ˈfeɪvərɪt riːl ðæts gʊd tuː gəʊ
on the analog player watch the people glow	ɒn ði ˈænəlɒg ˈpleɪə wɒʧ ðə ˈpiːpl gləʊ
sit back to the breeze let the memories flow	sɪt bæk tuː ðə briːz lɛt ðə ˈmɛməriz fləʊ
comedy tragedy all the highs and lows	ˈkɒmɪdi ˈtræʤɪdi ɔːl ðə haɪz ænd ləʊz

(chorus)	(ˈkɔːrəs)

Like your moves that I can't predict	laɪk jɔː muːvz ðæt aɪ kɑːnt prɪˈdɪkt
Like your look that I can't resist	laɪk jɔː lʊk ðæt aɪ kɑːnt rɪˈzɪst
The ting-a-ling feeling was oh so mutual	ðə tɪŋ-ə-lɪŋ ˈfiːlɪŋ wɒz əʊ səʊ ˈmjuːtjʊəl
the lingering appeal was so unusual	ðə ˈlɪŋgərɪŋ əˈpiːl wɒz səʊ ʌnˈjuːʒʊəl
herbally what is, medicine to a lone soul can become poison to some	ˈhɜːbəli wɒt ɪz, ˈmɛdsɪn tuː ə ləʊn səʊl kæn bɪˈkʌm ˈpɔɪzn tuː sʌm
with the whole body fast asleep, out cold	wɪð ðə həʊl ˈbɒdi fɑːst əˈsliːp, aʊt kəʊld
true vision seem to come to the eye, take hold	truː ˈvɪʒən siːm tuː kʌm tuː ði aɪ, teɪk həʊld
of a prophet in me most visibly	ɒv ə ˈprɒfɪt ɪn miː məʊst ˈvɪzəbli
I see clear when the world doesn't show it to me	aɪ siː klɪə wɛn ðə wɜːld dʌznt ʃəʊ ɪt tuː miː
It's so hard to make sense in a cycle of billing,	ɪts səʊ hɑːd tuː meɪk sɛns ɪn ə ˈsaɪkl ɒv ˈbɪlɪŋ,
trying to find a reason to quit and make a killing	ˈtraɪɪŋ tuː faɪnd ə ˈriːzn tuː kwɪt ænd meɪk ə ˈkɪlɪŋ
I admit, our dealing is painful	aɪ ədˈmɪt, ˈaʊə ˈdiːlɪŋ ɪz ˈpeɪnfʊl
like a star upon a child staring down from the ceiling	laɪk ə stɑːr əˈpɒn ə ʧaɪld ˈsteərɪŋ daʊn frɒm ðə ˈsiːlɪŋ
how far do we have to stretch the picture	haʊ fɑː duː wiː hæv tuː strɛʧ ðə ˈpɪkʧə
before pixelating the human texture	bɪˈfɔː ˈpɪksəleɪtɪŋ ðə ˈhjuːmən ˈtɛksʧə
we can take it all back to the register	wiː kæn teɪk ɪt ɔːl bæk tuː ðə ˈrɛʤɪstə
and start all over from the canister	ænd stɑːt ɔːl ˈəʊvə frɒm ðə ˈkænɪstə
let's save it all up for an ultimate prize	lɛts seɪv ɪt ɔːl ʌp fɔːr ən ˈʌltɪmɪt praɪz
homecoming gathering with a big surprise	ˈhəʊmˌkʌmɪŋ ˈgæðərɪŋ wɪð ə bɪg səˈpraɪz
throw on your favorite record that's good to go	θrəʊ ɒn jɔː ˈfeɪvərɪt ˈrɛkɔːd ðæts gʊd tuː gəʊ
on the analog table and it's hooked to blow	ɒn ði ˈænəlɒg ˈteɪbl ænd ɪts hʊkt tuː bləʊ
sit back with ease and hear the emcee flow	sɪt bæk wɪð iːz ænd hɪə ði ˌɛmˈsiː fləʊ
hi hat kick drum all the highs and lows	haɪ hæt kɪk drʌm ɔːl ðə haɪz ænd ləʊz

(chorus)	(ˈkɔːrəs)

Um, third time's the charm, hopefully	əm, θɜːd taɪmz ðə ʧɑːm, ˈhəʊpfʊli
when I chime on your door you'd still let me in	wɛn aɪ ʧaɪm ɒn jɔː dɔː juːd stɪl lɛt miː ɪn
after all these years	ˈɑːftər ɔːl ðiːz jɪəz
the room that you caved in my heart is exactly the same as you left it	ðə ruːm ðæt juː keɪvd ɪn maɪ hɑːt ɪz ɪgˈzæktli ðə seɪm æz juː lɛft ɪt
I realize that you have moved on	aɪ ˈrɪəlaɪz ðæt juː hæv muːvd ɒn
new styles and cliques like them silent flicks	njuː staɪlz ænd kliːks laɪk ðɛm ˈsaɪlənt flɪks
I'm speechless in this golden occasion	aɪm ˈspiːʧlɪs ɪn ðɪs ˈgəʊldən əˈkeɪʒən
the beautiful expression on the silver creation	ðə ˈbjuːtəfʊl ɪksˈprɛʃən ɒn ðə ˈsɪlvə kri(ː)ˈeɪʃən
this time I'd like to keep in touch	ðɪs taɪm aɪd laɪk tuː kiːp ɪn tʌʧ
I'm a likkle bit wiser, a whole lot tougher	aɪm ə likkle bɪt ˈwaɪzə, ə həʊl lɒt ˈtʌfə
if I suffer through another nightmare tonight,	ɪf aɪ ˈsʌfə θruː əˈnʌðə ˈnaɪtmeə təˈnaɪt,
we'll chalk it up as another chapter to write, all right?	wiːl ʧɔːk ɪt ʌp æz əˈnʌðə ˈʧæptə tuː raɪt, ɔːl raɪt?
or wrong or somewhere down the middle of the road	ɔː rɒŋ ɔː ˈsʌmweə daʊn ðə ˈmɪdl ɒv ðə rəʊd
I wanna see you again in a scene with the backdrop a perfect ten	aɪ ˈwɒnə siː juː əˈgɛn ɪn ə siːn wɪð ðə ˈbækdrɒp ə ˈpɜːfɪkt tɛn
and the music can take us back to the spot right then	ænd ðə ˈmjuːzɪk kæn teɪk ʌs bæk tuː ðə spɒt raɪt ðɛn
from black and white to a sepia tone	frɒm blæk ænd waɪt tuː ə ˈsiːpiə təʊn
some dreams come with a tint or in monochrome	sʌm driːmz kʌm wɪð ə tɪnt ɔːr ɪn ˈmɒnəkrəʊm
from black and white to my skin tone	frɒm blæk ænd waɪt tuː maɪ skɪn təʊn
some dreams have a stint on the microphone	sʌm driːmz hæv ə stɪnt ɒn ðə ˈmaɪkrəfəʊn

(chorus)	(ˈkɔːrəs)

okay we can take it all back to the register	ˈəʊˈkeɪ wiː kæn teɪk ɪt ɔːl bæk tuː ðə ˈrɛʤɪstə
and start all over from the canister	ænd stɑːt ɔːl ˈəʊvə frɒm ðə ˈkænɪstə
let's break it all down into pieces of bright	lɛts breɪk ɪt ɔːl daʊn ˈɪntuː ˈpiːsɪz ɒv braɪt
moments that pass by like a meteorite	ˈməʊmənts ðæt pɑːs baɪ laɪk ə ˈmiːtiəraɪt
throw on your favorite jacket and you're good to roll	θrəʊ ɒn jɔː ˈfeɪvərɪt ˈʤækɪt ænd jʊə gʊd tuː rəʊl
on the analog trail and you look the role	ɒn ði ˈænəlɒg treɪl ænd juː lʊk ðə rəʊl
just stroll through the trees and let your miseries go	ʤʌst strəʊl θruː ðə triːz ænd lɛt jɔː ˈmɪzəriz gəʊ
sunshine hurricane all the highs and lows	ˈsʌnʃaɪn ˈhʌrɪkən ɔːl ðə haɪz ænd ləʊz

we can take it all back to the register	wiː kæn teɪk ɪt ɔːl bæk tuː ðə ˈrɛʤɪstə
and start all over from the canister	ænd stɑːt ɔːl ˈəʊvə frɒm ðə ˈkænɪstə
let's break it all down into pieces of bright	lɛts breɪk ɪt ɔːl daʊn ˈɪntuː ˈpiːsɪz ɒv braɪt
moments that pass by like a meteorite	ˈməʊmənts ðæt pɑːs baɪ laɪk ə ˈmiːtiəraɪt

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It's funny how the music put times in perspective

ɪts ˈfʌni haʊ ðə ˈmjuːzɪk pʊt taɪmz ɪn pəˈspɛktɪv

Add a soundtrack to your life and perfect it

æd ə ˈsaʊndtræk tuː jɔː laɪf ænd ˈpɜːfɪkt ɪt

Whenever you are feeling blue keep walking and we can get far

wɛnˈɛvə juː ɑː ˈfiːlɪŋ bluː kiːp ˈwɔːkɪŋ ænd wiː kæn gɛt fɑː

Wherever you are

weərˈɛvə juː ɑː

Like a movie that you can't predict

laɪk ə ˈmuːvi ðæt juː kɑːnt prɪˈdɪkt

Like a book that you can't resist

laɪk ə bʊk ðæt juː kɑːnt rɪˈzɪst

I sing along a song that's oh so sensual

aɪ sɪŋ əˈlɒŋ ə sɒŋ ðæts əʊ səʊ ˈsɛnsjʊəl

bring along a sip to make it all so sexual

brɪŋ əˈlɒŋ ə sɪp tuː meɪk ɪt ɔːl səʊ ˈsɛksjʊəl

verbally that is, making love to the music means vibing to the beat at night

ˈvɜːbəli ðæt ɪz, ˈmeɪkɪŋ lʌv tuː ðə ˈmjuːzɪk miːnz ˈvaɪbɪŋ tuː ðə biːt æt naɪt

with the whole city fast asleep, out cold

wɪð ðə həʊl ˈsɪti fɑːst əˈsliːp, aʊt kəʊld

true words seem to rise to the lips, take hold

truː wɜːdz siːm tuː raɪz tuː ðə lɪps, teɪk həʊld

of a poet in me, most powerfully

ɒv ə ˈpəʊɪt ɪn miː, məʊst ˈpaʊəfʊli

I feel free when the world doesn't owe it to me

aɪ fiːl friː wɛn ðə wɜːld dʌznt əʊ ɪt tuː miː

It's so hard to find a gig that lives up to the billing,

ɪts səʊ hɑːd tuː faɪnd ə gɪg ðæt lɪvz ʌp tuː ðə ˈbɪlɪŋ,

trying to find a reason to work, god willing

ˈtraɪɪŋ tuː faɪnd ə ˈriːzn tuː wɜːk, gɒd ˈwɪlɪŋ

I admit, my thinking is wishful

aɪ ədˈmɪt, maɪ ˈθɪŋkɪŋ ɪz ˈwɪʃfʊl

like a star upon a child gazing up to the ceiling

laɪk ə stɑːr əˈpɒn ə ʧaɪld ˈgeɪzɪŋ ʌp tuː ðə ˈsiːlɪŋ

how far do we have to stretch the truth

haʊ fɑː duː wiː hæv tuː strɛʧ ðə truːθ

to fit the lifestyles borrowed and overdue

tuː fɪt ðə ˈlaɪfˌstaɪlz ˈbɒrəʊd ænd ˌəʊvəˈdjuː

we can take it all back to the register

wiː kæn teɪk ɪt ɔːl bæk tuː ðə ˈrɛʤɪstə

and start all over from the canister

ænd stɑːt ɔːl ˈəʊvə frɒm ðə ˈkænɪstə

let's break it all down into pieces of bright

lɛts breɪk ɪt ɔːl daʊn ˈɪntuː ˈpiːsɪz ɒv braɪt

moments that pass by like a meteorite

ˈməʊmənts ðæt pɑːs baɪ laɪk ə ˈmiːtiəraɪt

throw on your favorite reel that's good to go

θrəʊ ɒn jɔː ˈfeɪvərɪt riːl ðæts gʊd tuː gəʊ

on the analog player watch the people glow

ɒn ði ˈænəlɒg ˈpleɪə wɒʧ ðə ˈpiːpl gləʊ

sit back to the breeze let the memories flow

sɪt bæk tuː ðə briːz lɛt ðə ˈmɛməriz fləʊ

comedy tragedy all the highs and lows

ˈkɒmɪdi ˈtræʤɪdi ɔːl ðə haɪz ænd ləʊz

(chorus)

(ˈkɔːrəs)

Like your moves that I can't predict

laɪk jɔː muːvz ðæt aɪ kɑːnt prɪˈdɪkt

Like your look that I can't resist

laɪk jɔː lʊk ðæt aɪ kɑːnt rɪˈzɪst

The ting-a-ling feeling was oh so mutual

ðə tɪŋ-ə-lɪŋ ˈfiːlɪŋ wɒz əʊ səʊ ˈmjuːtjʊəl

the lingering appeal was so unusual

ðə ˈlɪŋgərɪŋ əˈpiːl wɒz səʊ ʌnˈjuːʒʊəl

herbally what is, medicine to a lone soul can become poison to some

ˈhɜːbəli wɒt ɪz, ˈmɛdsɪn tuː ə ləʊn səʊl kæn bɪˈkʌm ˈpɔɪzn tuː sʌm

with the whole body fast asleep, out cold

wɪð ðə həʊl ˈbɒdi fɑːst əˈsliːp, aʊt kəʊld

true vision seem to come to the eye, take hold

truː ˈvɪʒən siːm tuː kʌm tuː ði aɪ, teɪk həʊld

of a prophet in me most visibly

ɒv ə ˈprɒfɪt ɪn miː məʊst ˈvɪzəbli

I see clear when the world doesn't show it to me

aɪ siː klɪə wɛn ðə wɜːld dʌznt ʃəʊ ɪt tuː miː

It's so hard to make sense in a cycle of billing,

ɪts səʊ hɑːd tuː meɪk sɛns ɪn ə ˈsaɪkl ɒv ˈbɪlɪŋ,

trying to find a reason to quit and make a killing

ˈtraɪɪŋ tuː faɪnd ə ˈriːzn tuː kwɪt ænd meɪk ə ˈkɪlɪŋ

I admit, our dealing is painful