人生，是飞驰而过的火车。

Life is a train that flies by.

Cover credit: ins @timekeeper’s gallery

神的游戏

作词：安祀夕

作曲/编曲/演唱：峪晚彰

笔下的人物 逃不出书籍

拍摄的角色 逃不出荧屏

我  逃不出神的游戏

你

狂妄的人啊 逃不出四季

将军的棋兵 逃不出棋局

我  逃不出神的游戏

你

神只是与你做游戏

做出了千万个你

儿戏般的你

儿戏般的命运

不过是神的游戏

阳光的你

迷离的你

认真活着的你   

天真的你

不甘的你

撕扯剧本的你

平凡的你

倔强的你

打破神的设定的你

焦躁的你

麻木的你

无法喘气的你

一息尚存的你

挣脱神的游戏的你

神说

我爱这样的你

我骄傲而疯狂的创造品

我残缺的完美品

今天活得如何

创作notes：

曲中录了很多窗外城市与火车经过的声音。它们的声音变成了音乐。在最后收尾的萨满鼓模拟了火车汽笛声，那些飞驰而过的声音，也是一种仪式。

我想起了曾经某个人看着车窗外，不经意唱出的“爱你的每个瞬间，像飞驰而过的地铁”。

人生，是飞驰而过的火车。我虽然后来写下，爱你的每个瞬间，并不是飞驰而过的地铁。都是定格在电影胶卷里的一幅幅底片。每个瞬间没有飞驰而过，我摇着电影录影机的手柄，把它们小心翼翼拍下，卷进了那个圆圆的胶卷盒子。它们永久都被记录下来了。

今年遇见了很多事情，很多新的大门被打开，我第一次开始怀疑起自己的人生轨迹。忽然觉得好多事都像是上天在与我开玩笑，又或者是它就带着我到了那里。

命运弄人，我能跳出神的游戏吗？想要跳出的我，是否也是上天雕刻好的呢。我只能尝试挣脱，却永远逃不出这张网。而尝试想挣脱的过程，就是我活着的证明。

然后我继续听着上天，对我嘲讽的冷笑。然后，我用同样的方式，冷笑看回它。

这首曲子是对我意义非凡的一首。是我第一次在三天内从零开始作编曲，完成了一首流行歌的制作。中间无数次卡壳与想要放弃，但都找到了出口。每一个没有放弃的瞬间，写成了这首歌。也是我第一次在创作流行歌的时候，感受到在享受这个过程。

歌词最开始的灵感是四月的某个周一，第一次听安溥的《疯狂的阳光》，属于《神的游戏》专辑。她的曲子里的鼓点与“上帝”一词一出来，我就听到了脑子在给我念这个歌词。

曲中用了很多木琴，因为神一定觉得它的游戏非常有趣，看着浮生以他们的方式活着，如同儿戏。曲中也加入了很多不和谐音，因为命运是如此随机。中间加入了很多类似仪式的歌唱与萨满乐器，人们通过这样的方式祈求神的降临与获取能量和庇护，而我通过这样的方式，获取挣脱神的能量。我以我自己的力量活着。

缠绕我多年的心魔是，我写不出歌。我能写词，能写曲，但它们结合到一起，我觉得就会不配。但这次，这么多年了，原来我是能写歌的啊。我竟然打破自己的诅咒了。或许当我尝试跳出神的诅咒和游戏的时候，这首歌也从我的身体里流淌出来了。

这首歌的“我”，“你”，究竟是谁呢。哪句词又是谁的视角说出来的呢。我写的又是谁呢。我没有答案。可能是我自己，又是每一个人。浮生百态，哪怕都是被创作物，都在努力活着。

我的曲子没有既定的形状，没有规则，没有刻意的重复，只有想表达的情绪。发现自己很喜欢这样想加什么就加什么的状态。我把它视为一件艺术品，而并非只是歌。这是我自我表达的方式和我的一场实验。而且我证明给自己看了，我真的能写音乐，这一次，没有依赖任何一个老师。那些曾经在脑子里的单条旋律，我开始逐渐有信心把它们变成歌了。

我做到了。真好。

2024.06.09

公众号原文链接：《神的游戏》

The Game of God

Lyrics by: An Sixi
Composed, Arranged, and Performed by: Yuwan Zhang

The written characters can’t escape from the book
The roles in the film can’t escape from the screen
I cannot escape the game of god

You

Arrogant humans cannot escape the seasons
The checkmate chess pieces cannot escape the chessboard
I cannot escape the game of god

You

God is merely playing a game with you
Creating countless versions of you
The you that are like a child play
The destiny that is like a child play
Nothing but the game of god

The you who are sunny
The you who are daze
The you who live earnestly
The you who are innocent
The you who are defiant
The you tearing apart the script
The you who are ordinary
The you who are stubborn
The you breaking God’s rules
The you who are restless
The you who are numb
The you gasping for air
The you still holding on
The you breaking free from the game of god

And God says:
I love this version of you—
My proud and mad creation,
My flawed masterpiece

How are you living today?

Creation Notes

The song incorporates sounds from the city and passing trains recorded outside my window. Their noises became part of the music. At the end, a shaman drum mimics the sound of a train whistle. Those fleeting sounds are also a kind of ritual.

I remember someone once gazing out of a train window, singing softly, “The every moment of loving you is like a subway that is passing by.”

Life is a speeding train. Yet I later wrote that loving every moment isn’t like a fleeting subway—it’s frames frozen on film strips, each moment carefully captured, spooled into a round film reel. They’re permanently preserved.

This year brought many new experiences, many doors opening. For the first time, I began to question the trail of my life. It feels like fate is playing with me, leading me here and there.

Can I escape the game of god? Or am I, yearning to escape, just another piece carved by divine hands? All I can do is try to break free, though I know I’ll never escape this web. And yet, this struggle itself is proof that I am alive.

So, I listen to the mocking laughter of my fate. And then, in the same way, I laugh right back.

This song holds immense meaning for me. It’s the first time I composed, arranged, and produced a pop song from scratch in just three days. I hit countless roadblocks and felt like giving up, but I always found a way out. Every moment I refused to give up became part of this song. It’s also the first time I truly enjoyed the process of creating pop music.

The initial inspiration for the lyrics came on a Monday in April when I first heard An Pu’s “Mad Sunshine,” part of her The Game We Play (but the direct translation from Chinese character is “The Game of God”) album. The drumbeat and the word “God” struck me, and these lyrics began forming in my mind.

I used a lot of xylophone sounds in this track because God must find His game very amusing, watching mortals live their fleeting lives as if it’s all a child’s play. The song also includes dissonant tones, reflecting the randomness of fate. I incorporated ritualistic chants and shamanic instruments because people use such ceremonies to summon gods or seek energy and protection. I, too, sought the energy to break free from God’s grasp. Living on my terms is my form of resistance.

For years, I was haunted by the belief that I couldn’t write songs. I could write lyrics, and compose melodies, but putting them together felt inadequate. Yet after all this time, I’ve finally proven to myself—I can write songs. I broke my own curse.

Perhaps this song flowed out of me as I tried to escape God’s curse and game.

Who are the “I” and the “you” in this song? Whose perspective is each line from? I have no answer. Perhaps it’s me, or perhaps it’s everyone. The kaleidoscope of human life—whether we’re mere creations or not—strives to live.

My music has no fixed form, no rules, no deliberate repetition—only emotions I want to express. I’ve realized I love this freedom, adding whatever I feel like. I see it as an artwork, not just a song. It’s my way of self-expression, my experiment. And I’ve shown myself that I can write music. This time, I didn’t rely on any teacher. The melodies that once existed only as fragments in my mind are finally becoming complete songs.

I did it. And it feels wonderful.

2024.06.09