命运的歌词
害怕悲剧重演 我的命中命中
越美丽的东西我越不可碰
历史在重演 这么烦嚣城中
没理由相恋 可以没有暗涌
其实我再去爱惜你又有何用
难道这次我抱紧你未必落空
仍静候著你说我别错用神 什么我都有预感
就算天空再深 看不出裂痕
眉头仍聚满密云 就算一屋暗灯
照不穿我身 仍可反映你心
让这口烟跳升 我身躯下沉
曾多么想多么想贴近你的心和眼口和耳亦没缘份我都捉不紧
然后睁不开两眼 看命运光临
然后天空又再涌起密云
然后天空又再涌起密云

<浪漫满屋>主题曲--命运

歌词：

사랑을 잘 모르겠어 이렇게 다가올 줄 날 몰랐었어

내 마음조차 그 사람앞에서는 내 뜻대로 안돼
이럴 줄 알았더라면
처음부터 시작하지도 않았어

바보처럼 이제와서야 난 이미 늦은 후회를 하고 있어
니가 사랑이 되지 않기를 빌었어
너만은 절대로 아니기를 빌었어

넌 사랑이 아닐걸라고 수도 없이 나를 속여왔어
잠시 스쳐가는 인연이길 바랬어
아픈 상처만 내게 남겨질테니까
하지만 알면서도 너의 모든 것이 욕심이나
잡고 싶어

-간주중-

잘못된 시작이라고.
그렇게 쉽게 생각 했었는데

언제든 부를 수 있을꺼라고 난 믿었었는데
어떻게 말해야 할지 어디서 부터가 잘못된 건지

이사랑을 피해야 하는데
니 모든게 너무 그리워져

니가 사랑이 되지 않기를 빌었어
너만은 절대로 아니기도 빌었어
넌 사랑이 아닐걸라고 수도 없이 나를 속여왔어
잠시 스쳐가는 인연이길 바랬어
아픈 상처만 내게 남겨질테니까
하지만 알면서도 너의 모든 것이 욕심이나

이젠 너 아니면 아무의미 없는데
이제 나도 나를 어쩔수가 없는데
너를 지워야만 한다는 사실이 오늘도 난...
더 힘들게 해

发音：
sa rang er zar mo ru ge so
yi re ke da ga or zur nan mor ra so
ne ma em zo ca gu sa ram a pe so nun
ne du de ro an dye
yi rer zur a ra de ra miu
ce em bu te shi zek ha ji do a na so
ba bo ce rem yi je wa se yan n a
yi mi nu zun hu hye rur ha go yi so
ni ga sa rang yi dye ji an kirur bi re so
no man en zer de ro a ni girur bi re so
nen sa rang yi a nir ge ra go su do eb she na rur so ge wa so
kam shi su ce ga nun yin en yi gir ba re so
a pu sang ce man ne ge man ge jir te ni gga
ha ji man ar meiu se done ei mo dun ge shi yo simi na
zab go si pe
zar mo day shi zak yir a go
gu re ke syub ge seng gakhe se nun dei
en je dun bu rur su yi sur ge ra go
nan mi de se nun dey
o de ke mar he ya har ji
o di se bu te ga zar mo dyen gen ji
yi sa rang er pi he ya ha nun de
ni mo dun ge ne mu gu ri wo zo
ni ga sa rang yi dye ji an ki rur bi re so
ne man en zer de ro a ni girur bi re so
nen sa rang yi a nir ge ra go su do eb shi na rur so ge wa so
zam shi su ce ga nun yin yen i gir ba re se
a pun sang ce man ne ge nam ge jir te ni gga
ha ji man ar men se do
ne ei mo dun ge shi yok sim yi na
yi je no na ni men a mu ei mi eb nun day
yi jen no do na rur o zzer su ga eb nun day
ne rur ji wo ya man han da nun sa shi ri o nur do nar
do him dur he he

歌词大意：

我不太懂爱情
万万没想到爱情就这样到来
在爱情面前
我的心依然不那么塌实
早知如此
当初我就不应该开始
象个傻瓜一样
到现在我才后悔
我在祈祷你不要爱我
我在祈祷爱我的人不应该是你
你一直在骗我
你我之间不可能有爱情
只有与我们擦肩而过的姻缘
如今只会给我留下痛苦
明知道这是不可能的事情
我却想拥有你的一切
因此越来越伤心
这是错误的开始
我一直把这个想的太简单了
我相信总有一天会找到你的
我应该怎么做
到底从哪里开始发生了错误
想避开这段爱情
但你的一切变的那么可爱
我在祈祷你不要爱我
我在祈祷爱我的人不应该是你
你一直在骗我
你我之间不可能有爱情
只有与我们擦肩而过的姻缘
如今只会给我留下痛苦
明知道这是不可能的事情
我却想拥有你的一切
如今不是你
没有任何意义
如今我也拿你没有办法
想忘了你这好象不可能
今天你还在我脑海里转
让我难过

1.Full House (Instrumental)
2.命运
3.Forever (Instrumental)
4.I Think I
5.诗 (Instrumental)
6.“朋友”那一句
7.命运 (Full Slow Instrumental)
8.Blue Hills (Instrumental)
9.命运 (Slow Version)
10.I Think I (Guitar Instrumental)
11.晚来的爱情 (Too Late)
12.Forever
13.命运 (Semi Slow Instrumental)
14.Love At The Gate (Instrumental)
15.我会感谢你的
16.晚来的爱情 (Too Late) (Violin Instrumental)
17.Amazing Love (Instrumental)
18.Paradiso (Instrumental)
19.命运 (Instrumental)

仙人，乃山人。
山人合起来，就是仙。
“山不在高，有仙则灵”。

There are no car chases and no emotion. Why, then, is Crime Scene Investigation so compelling? The answer, writes J.G. Ballard, lies in our deepest fears.
Television today is an ageing theme park, which we visit out of habit rather than in hope of finding anything fresh and original. At times I think the era of television is over, but then it suddenly comes up with something rich and strange.
A few years ago, I began to linger over a series called CSI: Crime Scene Investigation. After only a few episodes, I was completely hooked, for reasons I don't understand even today. Set in Las Vegas, the series described the work of the police department's forensics team, a strictly tweezers-and-litmus-paper operation where guilt or innocence hang on having the right kind of sand in your trouser cuffs. Lurid computer graphics provided flashbacks to the homicides, a stomach-churning revelation of what actually happens when an axe strikes the back of the skull, or a corrosive gas gets to work on the lungs. The series was original, slick and deeply disturbing, though I wasn't too keen to find out why.

What is so unsettling about the series? First, there are the locales, which are not what they seem. The Vegas series and CSI Miami are set in the two strangest cities in America, but take no advantage whatever of their bizarre ecologies. The reason, of course, is that they are filmed in Los Angeles and rarely come anywhere near Las Vegas or Miami, unlike Hawaii Five-O and Miami Vice, which were shot on the spot, and where the lush flora and fauna helped to authenticate even the most improbable storylines.

But this shunning of the real Vegas and Miami has its advantages. The air in LA is grey and dusty compared with the desert glare of Las Vegas and the spectral whiteness of Miami Beach. So CSI, taking the same dim view of daylight as Count Dracula, stays indoors whenever it can.

The series unfolds within an almost totally interiorised world, a clue to its real significance. The crimes - they are all homicides - take place in anonymous hotel rooms and in the tract housing of the Vegas and Miami suburbs, almost never in a casino or a druglord's gaudy palace.

A brutal realism prevails, the grimmest in any crime series. Suburban lounges and hotel toilets are the settings of horrific murders, which thankfully are over by the time each episode begins. Gloves donned, the cast dismantle u-bends and plunge up to their elbows in toilet bowls, retrieving condoms, diaphragms and bullet casings, syringes, phials and other signs of the contemporary zodiac. Faecal matter and toilet paper are never shown, perhaps reflecting American squeamishness, though evidence of anal intercourse and vaginal bruising is spoken of like tennis scores.

If the crime scene is brightly lit, the outdoor world is always dark. A car crash

or street shooting always takes place at night, when the city seems deserted and dead. Light and safety are found only in the crime lab, among its high-tech scanners and its ruthless deconstruction of human trauma. This rejection of the outside world eliminates the need for transport, and there are no cars in the CSI series. David Caruso, who plays the head of the Miami team, sometimes turns up in a vast Hummer, an armoured vehicle that transforms a quiet Miami suburb into a bomb-ridden quarter of Baghdad, as if underlining the hostility of the external world.

The complete absence of cars touches a nerve of anxiety in the viewer. Television crime series, from Division 4 and Cop Shop to The Sweeney, are filled with their huge carapaces, swerving in and out of alleys, reversing in a howl of burning rubber. Watched with the sound down, episodes of Starsky and Hutch resembled instructional films on valet parking. The identification of car and hero reached its apotheosis in the 1970s series Vegas, where the playboy private eye depicted by the affable Robert Urich actually parked his car inside his living room, having it stretched out beside him like a faithful bloodhound.

In CSI, not only are there no cars, there are no guns. The team wear sidearms, but I have rarely seen a gun drawn in self-defence, let alone fired. The only bullets discharged end up in calibrated water tanks. The assumption is clearly made that reason and logic need never rely on anything so crude as brute force.

No cars, no guns and, even more significant, no emotions, except in the flashbacks to the actual crime. Every viewer knows that the only people who show emotion in CSI are about to die. From most of the cast there is not so much as a flicker of anger or revulsion. None of the team has relationships with each other, and there are few rivalries and no affairs. We never see where they live and know nothing about them.

The head of the CSI team, Gil Grissom (played by William Petersen), is a likeable but hermetic figure who will throw out a Shakespeare quote or a tag from Rousseau as he peers into his microscope, but he remains sealed inside his quest for the truth. The queenly Marg Helgenberger, who plays Grissom's No. 2, is a former "exotic dancer", a single mother with a daughter we never see. Her speciality is "blood-spatter analysis".

Still, this reticence contrasts favourably with the demented profligacy of The Bill, with its cast of murderers, psychopaths, child molesters and arsonists, all of them in police uniform and all emotionally interlocked with each other. New arrivals at Sun Hill station are ruthlessly asset-stripped of whatever weaknesses they try to hide and then discarded. Emotion rules, rather than reason.

Characterisation, we are always told, is the key to drama, but this is a literary notion that serves the interests of unimaginative novelists. In any case, it is untrue to life, where we can work with people in the same office for years, or even share the same bed in a tolerable marriage, and know next to nothing about their real characters until a sudden crisis occurs.

Given that there are no interesting characters, no car chases or shoot-outs, no violently stirred emotions and no dramatic action, why is the CSI series so riveting? What is it that grips us to the end of the episode, which is scarcely more than an elaborate crossword puzzle with human tissues in the place of clues?

My guess is that the answer lies in the inner sanctum at the heart of all three series - the autopsy room. Here the victims surrender all that is left of their unique identities, revealing the wounds and medical anomalies that led to their demise. Once they have been dissected - their ribcages opened like suitcases, brains lifted from their craniums, tissues analysed into their basic components - they have nothing left, not even the faintest claim on existence.

I suspect that the cadavers waiting their turn on the tables are surrogates for ourselves, the viewers. The real crime the CSI team is investigating - weighing every tear, every drop of blood, every smear of semen - is the crime of being alive. I fear that we watch, entranced, because we feel an almost holy pity for ourselves and the oblivion patiently waiting for us.

Fujitsu has developed what it claims is the world's first electronic paper that can be flexed, can display colour images and can do so when the power is turned off.

Psalm 109 (English Standard Version)
English Standard Version (ESV)
Help Me, O LORD My God
To the choirmaster. A Psalm of David.

1Be not silent, O God of my praise!
2For wicked and deceitful mouths are opened against me,
speaking against me with lying tongues.
3They encircle me with words of hate,
and attack me without cause.
4In return for my love they accuse me,
but I give myself to prayer.[a]
5So they reward me evil for good,
and hatred for my love.

6Appoint a wicked man against him;
let an accuser stand at his right hand.
7When he is tried, let him come forth guilty;
let his prayer be counted as sin!
8May his days be few;
may another take his office!
9May his children be fatherless
and his wife a widow!
10May his children wander about and beg,
seeking food far from the ruins they inhabit!
11May the creditor seize all that he has;
may strangers plunder the fruits of his toil!
12Let there be none to extend kindness to him,
nor any to pity his fatherless children!
13May his posterity be cut off;
may his name be blotted out in the second generation!
14May the iniquity of his fathers be remembered before the LORD,
and let not the sin of his mother be blotted out!
15Let them be before the LORD continually,
that he may cut off the memory of them from the earth!



16For he did not remember to show kindness,
but pursued the poor and needy
and the brokenhearted, to put them to death.
17He loved to curse; let curses come[b] upon him!
He did not delight in blessing; may it be far[c] from him!
18He clothed himself with cursing as his coat;
may it soak[d] into his body like water,
like oil into his bones!
19May it be like a garment that he wraps around him,
like a belt that he puts on every day!
20May this be the reward of my accusers from the LORD,
of those who speak evil against my life!

21But you, O GOD my Lord,
deal on my behalf for your name's sake;
because your steadfast love is good, deliver me!
22For I am poor and needy,
and my heart is stricken within me.
23I am gone like a shadow at evening;
I am shaken off like a locust.
24My knees are weak through fasting;
my body has become gaunt, with no fat.
25I am an object of scorn to my accusers;
when they see me, they wag their heads.

The Holy Bible, English Standard Version Copyright © 2001 by Crossway Bibles, a division of Good News Publishers.
ESV from Good News Press

繁体 简体

鬱悶 郁闷
憂鬱 忧郁

內 内