I think I'll take a drink again. I'll have to drink until the end. When I'm asleep you're in my head. All my potential drank to death. In moderation. 12 step deprivation.
If I could make the day. Adjust to where I've been. That's holding you close. Like a new beginning. . If I can say the words. That make you come to me.
Know what the sun feels like on my skin. I wanna know what the moon feels like within. I know what the sun feels like on my skin. I wanna know how the moon gives life within.
All the peasants in the squares. At their tables and their chairs. Set to salvage certain numbers. From the wonder of the Tundra. And the muses in the gloom.
Lost my job at Mickie D's. 4 giving away 2 much food 4 free. But I couldn't watch another black child go 2 school. With nothing to eat. 7 of us then took 2 the streets.
Pourquoi la guerre existe. Pourquoi est-ce qu'on insiste. A l'ombre des fascistes. Il faudra qu'on résiste. Pourquoi tu me regarde. Pourquoi t'es sur tes gardes.
Could paint the sun and the moon. And the stars straight down from the sky. Carve your likeness in stone. Down to the light that shines in your eyes. Build a church in your honor.
La la la la la la, la la la la la la. My cherie amour, lovely as a summer day. My cherie amour, distant as the milky way. My cherie amour, pretty little one that I adore.
Anything we should know about your change?. I still remember the sound of your voice calling out my name. And I still remember my face examining itself,.
When most us saddle up for the old trail for our last ride, we leave little. Enough behind to show that once we have camped here. Some leave more than.
Shades of night are falling and I'm lonely. Standing on the corner feeling blue. Sweethearts out for fun. Pass me one by one. Guess I'll wind up like I always do.
How should I begin?. I find myself residing. At the dried out end of a dead history.. All my thoughts are dirt. Scattered on a coffin,. And I a dilettante funereal spectator here..
You wouldn't know it to look at me,. but I'm a superhero. I've got x-ray vision and everything. My frail frame belies my strength. I can lift tall buildings.
Hit it, Hal. . Early in the mornin', she hitched a ride down to Louisville. Holdin' onto a hundred dollar bill. Dressed herself like a Cajun Queen in New Orleans, baby.
Whether you are here or yonder,. Whether you are false or true. Whether you remain or wander,. I'm growing fonder of you. Even though your friends forsake you,.
Desert shadows creep across purple sands.. Natives kneel in prayer by their caravans.. . There, silhouetted under and eastern star,. I see my long lost blossom of shalimar.
Written by Robert Wachtel. © 1973 Leadsheet Land (ASCAP). . Maybe he's right. Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe what I'm saying is the way it should be. Nobody knows when the truth goes by.
I cry at her bowl, dog's dying day. A bone in her bowl, a watery grave. . See, I am a sailor, but I'm not so great. I keep fishin' for roadkill, passin' out on the waves.
When the night is over. When the moonlight's gone. When seductive rhythms. Of the storm die down. When the white wild horses. Are laying down to rest.
Chasing all your dreams like any fool. Observing the absurd from a piano stool. And it's the first time you'll get the truth, that's for sure. Now the black beetles they come in waves.