They say you can't keep a good man down. Sooner or later, he'll come back around. Risin' up on his own two feet. Might have been down but he can't be beat.
You and me walking on the land. But we can lose a stare from time in time. 'Cause we both get lonely. And it makes me more afraid. As the night goes on..
In a world where love is found and lost so easily. I'm so thankful I share my life with you. All around you hear the sound of faithless poetry. Oh, I won't lie, that's something I won't do.
It's not the pale moon that excites me. That thrills me and delights me. Oh no, it's just the nearness of you.. . It's not just your sweet conversation.
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O the town of Betlehem.. a perfect light that shines... There to guide the wise man free and give hope to the roll mankind ... To show the world this miracle of pure unselfish love...
Oh, the last ten years, it's been quite trip. Over thirty-six-hundred spins around without a cosmic slip. But within the realm of our atmosphere. We're 'bout as out of whack as we've ever been in a million years.
Like a leaf caught in the wind he drifted a while. With no purpose or direction too his life. He tried to get himself together and pacify his mind. And forget about the things he left behind..
Anyone can read the signs. Or the writing on the wall. It? s all right there to see. Except someone like me. Who can? t see the truth at all. . It takes a special kind of fool.
Dawn is slowly breaking. Our friends have all gone home. You and I are waiting. For Santa Clause to come. There's a present by the tree. Stockings on the wall.
Real love is the only thing I know. The changes of everything at touches. It gets you and it's gentle clutches. But that's not really the heart of the matter..
Little boy in a baseball hat. Stands in the feild with his ball and bat. Says, I am the greatest player of them all.. Put his bat on his shoulder and he tosses up the ball..
The good life.. . Baby, I've made up my mind. And take all the good life that I've found. I promise myself, if I was to make it. I had to do the best that I can.
THE GHOST OF ANOTHER MAN. WRITERS ROGER BOWLING, FRANK DYCUS, GEORGE RICHEY. He's living in that big old house that he knows was built by me. He's playing with the baby that belongs to her and me..
On a warm summer's evenin'. On a train bound for nowhere. I met up with a gambler. We were both too tired to sleep. So we took turns a-starin'. Out the window at the darkness.
Well, I wonder, wonder, wonder just why it is. That I sit around here and I cry?. Is it just because I'm too weak to take the loss?. I walk away knowing that I really care, down deep inside.
Well, I wonder, wonder, wonder just why it is. That I sit around here and I cry?. Is it just because I'm too weak to take the loss?. I walk away knowing that I really care, down deep inside.
I can't say that he loved his work but he fed a family of nine. Papa never heard of a union, he logged his scale in time. But he was a lucky man. At least he had a job down at the factory.
We've been ridin' all night just to get here. Don't you be throwin' us out so soon. Across the whole damn south, we come out. Now we got some drinkin' to do.
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