[spoken]. . The history of the world is a book. Each people is a chapter. Each city is a page. And each human being is a word. Each word has a meaning and one single place.
Every little bit hurts, every little bit hurts. Every night I cry, every night I sigh. Every night I wonder why you treat me cold. Yet you wont let me go.
Every little bit hurts, every little bit hurts. Every night I cry, every night I sigh. Every night I wonder why you treat me cold. Yet you wont let me go.
Enjoy yourself, it's later than you think. Enjoy yourself, while you're still in the pink. The years go by, as quickly as you wink. Enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself, it's later than you think.
Enjoy yourself, it's later than you think. Enjoy yourself, while you're still in the pink. The years go by, as quickly as you wink. Enjoy yourself, enjoy yourself, it's later than you think.
I will return here one day. And dig up my bones from the clay. I buried nails and strings and hair. And that old tooth I believe was a bear's. . I held my hand in the fire.
I will return here one day. And dig up my bones from the clay. I buried nails and strings and hair. And that old tooth I believe was a bear's. . I held my hand in the fire.
You put your fist in the ground. You went from quiet to loud. You found you're broken in half. Today. . You set a fire to forget. To burn up all your regret.
This is your history. You made what you will be. Facts are of no concern. They upset your story. . The past is what we learn. It upholds your glory. Revisionist history.
They say it takes a ring of gold, to fix the outer shell. So hold on until they return. Enslave the native tongue, to mind their freedom out. So hold on and don't give in.
I should've been cautious,. I should've been honest,. But now I have to wait.. You missed the merge,. Passing the dark,. And this body is useless again,.
(Royston Langdon). . *While traveling in New Zealand one summer, Roy was caught in an earthquake and wrote a song about it. This song is one out of several that Roy wrote during his trip. The last two lines are a joke between the band members and stand for an English delicacy.*.
Just wake me up inside. Because I'm tired of dreaming. I'm holding someone else. But I just can't feel. . Our bodies still collide. But can't stop this bleeding.
Is it me why I am running. Is it you my dearest friend. I could go towards the sunlight. With the rain inside my head. Make it all about forgiveness. Make it all about myself.
Shes sorry so I guess itll be ok. Shes like an evil mist amidst the hallowed rain. I saw her drying her eyes. Her tears are liquid lies. Shes at a music show routing for the team.
She had thirteen kids, each one had thirteen problems. Three uppers, ten downers, just to put up with this. And she don't know which children belong to which father.
Once I had fame, oh, I was full of pride. There were a lot of friends, always by my side. But my fame, oh, it died. And my friends began to hide. . Everybody loves a winner.
Rise and shine, keep your razor sharp. Size up yourself in the mirror. A slice of life to last throughout the year. But sooner or later it all comes back to you.
I recognize you. I recognize you. . Seeing red I'm feeling blue. About the trouble I'm putting you through. Ain't looking for sympathy. Just have a little mercy on me.