Hyman Naugthon sat down to write a song,. with the help of some expensive words,. he was comin' right along.. He wrote about his troubles,. and then he wrote of death..
Flying Horse of Louisiana,. were you ever unknown?. Did your crowd fail to cheer?. Were you left standing and forsaken with your tears?. . Flying Horse of Louisiana,.
Grab a fistful of love. It can't hurt. Grab a fistful of love. It can't hurt. Grab a fistful of love. It can't hurt. Grab a fistful of love. It can't hurt.
Got the world at the tip of my fingers. Women in the palm of my hand. If life gets much better. Better watch out for this man. 'Cause I'm a rapper and I'm a scrapper.
Down south there's a gamblin' sport. Where they throw cock-roosters in a pit. Son, ain't syin' what's right or wrong.. I'm just sayin' how it is. . One day I came across a small country town.
Fever in my mind, I had a little bit.. Money in my pocket, just a little bit.. Gave the doctor what I had.. Money only makes me sad.. I still got the fever in my mind..
I want, I need. I need to feel a fertile woman. . There are many kinds of love. that make their homes on this earth. but we're gonna take a look at the love.
Oh we'll fly in on the spring breeze,. shoutin dreams from the smile on our face.. On flyin horses came the Oak trees. showin unity to the human race..
Am heavy,. forever,. In the sun,. forever,. Should we know,. forever,. In the field,. La-da da duh-da. . Chewing On Bubblegum,. Living in the field,. Chewing On Bubblegum,.
Falling through a field,. Dandelion grave,. I will lay here,. Forever and ever.. . Sunlight makes us feel,. And people go away,. And I will lay here,.
The other side. Take it to the low. . So he can see. The man in disguise. So he can see. The big surprise. . So he knows he's got to find. Gotta find some peace of mind.
I will find this true place I belong. These tricks these traits that seem to lead to oh so wrong. I seem to find where I have been so blind. Clear these dusty eyes so I can be so kind.
There's a machine in my head, there's a grinding in my brain. The best part is that it turns you on. The grinding penetrates under the sheets my dear.
Life has passed us by. as though time was standing still. An endless era like the melting snow. Fifty years have gone by. but not a day will pass. To remind us of the pain.
When I start thinking, this is only a lust. I must confess I'd be better on my own. Then I start thinking this is really love. And I confess I can't do this alone.
No one should have to live in shame. It's this absurdity that clouds your mind. And pushes you away. . What lies upon the altar?. Statues and hypocrites keep you in line.
We find our faith in the damnedest place. The thin line between love and hate. Sold it all for a shot of hope. You can feel but you can't cope. Although you know that it hurts.
A fork is a cold shiny tool. To pierce, tear and ingest. Whoever has the fork in hand. Controls the meal of its choice. We're told the first few punctures.
Once there was a miner. who held down his job. 'til one day he died from. the fate of his God. Now his wife she did mourn him. 'til the collectors came around.