It's too late, she's gone. It's too late, my baby's gone. Wish I had told her she was my only one. It's too late, she's gone. . It's a woman that cries.
She took my hand. And tried to make me understand. That she would always be there. . But I looked away. And she ran away from me today. I'm such a lonely man.
I am yours, however distant you may be. There blows no wind but wafts your scent to me. There sings no bird but calls your name to me. Each memory that has left its trace with me.
Oh how I hate the leader's voice. A prisoner like me. Quick looks through the window show me. Gas towers in the dawn. They seem to hang about the prison wall.
All of us walk a long, steady line. And now that you're gone. I have nothing but time. To walk with your bags. Down to the docks. And sit in the grass.
You can do whatever you want to do. Wherever you want to go it's up to you. And wouldn't it be fine. Following your heart, playing your own part. . You and me out on a farm, let the sun be our alarm.
There's a full moon over India. And Gandhi lives again. Who's to say you have to lose. For someone else to win. In the eyes of all the people. The look is much the same.
He came looking for the answers to some questions on his mind. seeking truth and understanding in the hope that he would find. a way to better serve his brothers and his sisters in the sun.
I know how it feels to be head over heels. To be lost in true love and the light of the moon. When everything seems to be coming up roses. And every word seems to be rhyming with June.
I'd sing you a song, without a word. Still you would hear my tune. I'd give you a day, without a time. So it won't end too soon. . Anything, I would do.
It's cold here in the city. It always seems that way. And I've been thinking about you. Almost every day. Thinking about the good times. Thinking about the rain.
Jessie went away last summer, a couple of months ago. After all our time together, it was hard to see her go. She called me right up when she arrived.
There are children raised in sorrow. on a scorched and barren plain. there are children raised beneath the golden sun. There are children of the water,.
I remember romance. Bubblebaths at night. Breakfast in the afternoon. Love by candlelight. Love by candlelight. . I remember romance. And lying in her arms.
I guess he'd rather be in Colorado. He'd rather spend his time out where the sky looks like a pearl after a rain. Once again I see him walkin Once again I hear him talking to the stars he makes.
I would always wait. For the perfect time. But now the time. Has come and gone. I hold on to the memories. As though we're still together. Longing for the strength to carry on.
(Kevin Denney/Don Sampson). . Check engine light came on in my pick up truck. So I took a piece of black tape and I covered it up. I knew there was a problem underneath the hood.
THERE'S A MONTH OF SUNDAY PAPERS. IN THE WEEDS THAT ARE TAKING OVER. THAT OL' GRAVEL DRIVEWAY. AND A QUART OF MILK HALF EMPTY. TWO WEEKS PAST THE EXPIRATION.
Hey!. . I know where you live, yea. And I wanna live there too. I drive buy almost everyday, its not even really on my way. When am I gonna get to see you?.
Chi l'avrebbe detto che anche alla mia età ci fosse un po' da ridere. Non l'avrei mai detto che a metà di un libro si potesse chiudere. Oggi cosa resta se l'amore non si fa più sulle nuvole?.