Yeah, yeah-e-yeah, yeah-e-yeah, yeah. . With the lights this low and the candles lit. Baby, we can get it poppin' 'cause I know how to put it down. And I don't usually play games, no and I can do a little foreplay.
[Originally by Billy Joel]. . Friday night I crashed your party,. Saturday I said I'm sorry. Sunday came and trashed me out again.. I was only having fun,.
Here is my hand for you to hold. Here's the part of me they have not sold. Others may come and they may go. But I love you young, I love you old. . Only you can see yeah, the other side of me.
There was a man of confused and sad nature. Thought no one loved him, that was not true. He said, he was a lost soul, didn't fit in anywhere. Didn't know where to turn or who to turn to.
Come on kids, ya'll come with me. Let's go looking for a Christmas tree. Cross the river and through the woods. I got my axe and it works real good. .
There's a man workin' in a field. See's the rain and it's burning. He's saying this can't be real. Oh as he sees the color of the fields turning. . Far away them too busy getting rich to care.
Is he sane or insane. That's all they want to know. Is he crazy or strange then. If so I want to go. I've seen him leave at night. Followed him so far.
You know I think it's a funny thing. People talk without listening. People listen without hearing. I do it all the time. . You know it's a funny phenomenon.
I'm walking outside and I see you arrive. I say, "Let's go for a ride, and have a good old time". Whoa, I'm saving up lies, or just stay quiet every time.
Life In The Psychotropics. Bruce Hornsby. Life in the psychotropics, colorful and bright. Hypnotics have the bonus of a light show every night. Aderall picks me up and my Ambien brings me down.
Let my inspiration flow in token rhyme, suggesting rhythm. That will not forsake you, till my tale is told and done. While the firelight's aglow, strange shadows in the flames will grow.
It laid this gun suckin'. Lickin' the gun, yeah. . Lickin' the gun, lickin' the hand that feeds you. Lickin' the gun, finger lickin' fun. Lickin' the gun, lickin' the hand that feeds you.
There's a sinister game. That children play...Hey...Hey. When they get to the end. Of each schoolday...Ha...Ha. They spand their lives. Getting ready for the kill....
Laughing in the hiding bush. . There's a sinister game that children play. When they get to the end of each school day. They spend their lives getting ready for the kill.
Maybe the hardest thing I've ever done. Was to walk away from you. Leaving behind the life that we'd begun. I split myself in two. Proud and alone, cold as a stone.
Well I looked into a house I once lived in. Around the time I first went on my own. When the roads were as many as the places I had dreamed of. And my friends and I were one.
Standing in the ocean with the sun burning low in the west. Like a fire in the cavernous darkness at the heart of the beast. With my beliefs and possessions, stopped at the frontier in my chest.
I've been waiting for something to happen. For a week or a month or a year. With the blood in the ink of the headlines. And the sound of the crowd in my ear.
I can't keep up with what's been going on. I think my heart must just be slowing down. Among the human beings in their designer jeans. Am I the only one who hears the screams.
Papa hit him, Mama kissed him. Made him go to Catechism. With the sisters in their black and white. And all the time those city streets. Were teaching him another kind of wisdom.