Out of the gravel. From behind the smallest stone. Go home. Walk back. With your wet cotton bags back home. Tobacco for sawdust. Tobacco for sawdust. The Big Santiago Bust.
Well the south congress whores they is a movin on down the line. They moved the cinema west down to Interstate 35. The Hos got their Johns following single file.
I washed it with water. Made it smell like rosemary. A funny little tearbox. A chest full of laughter. Well I drank hot coffee. Well I drank so much coffee.
Your eyes speak the feeling that's inside of me,. To hear your voice say it is not something I need.. Sometimes it might help, to guide my hands and feet.
Forty individuals, keep it on the low?. Keep it on the low, aight. Yo, yo, yo, word up, let's go, nigga, nigga. . Yo pimp get the departure let's start the execution.
I'll be true to you (x4). . Another former lover man. Come crawlin' back again. So you wanna make it good. You say you needa be understood. Well you should know.
Calm down now baby. The end of the journey's in sight. You've travelled so far love. Now all of the stars are aligned. . Say goodbye (I don't want to).
I'm living with your memory. In the attic in my mind. And you've been getting by without me. But I've been spending all my time. With a girl that I remember.
(In complete contrast, a pop song, and a pop singer. In a different way, this has its own magic. The magic of an accompaniment, tailor-made in the fashion of today. For this occasion, this singer, and this song).
Oh, the gist of it all is the first day of fall. Is the day when my ship will set sail. The best of all friends will say good-bye again. There's still time for one last glass of ale.
Pardon me if I'm leaving in a hurry, can't you see. There's too much to lose for me to stay around?. I've played your game, obeyed your rules, the best that I know how.
The space shuttle ends where the subway begins. There's a tear on the face of the moon. From dusk until dawn they have searched all day long. But there's too many clues in this room.
It was only yesterday. When I heard the teacher say. Patiently, one and two make three. We were children, you and me. Let us pray for the ones they call.
The legend lives on from the Chippewa on down. Of the big lake they called 'gitche gumee'. The lake, it is said, never gives up her dead. When the skies of November turn gloomy.
The way I feel is like a robin. Whose babes have flown to come no more. Like a tall oak tree alone and cryin'. When the birds have flown and the nest is bare.
Just like birds of a feather. We too have followed the golden sun. It feels so good. Knowin' the watchman's gone. . If I give you a rose, buddy. Would you please bury it in the fields?.
The soul is the rock and the rock will not be moved. Nothing is disputed, yet nothing is disproved. And the seeds of the earth that were planted long ago.
When it's midnight on the meadow. And the cats are in the shed. And the river tells a story. At the window by my bed. . If you listen very closely. Be as quiet as you can.
The songs of the wars are as old as the hills. They cling like the rust on the cold steel that kills. They tell of the boys who went down to the tracks.
Down the hall their voices ring, their feet are on the run. Phantoms on the winter sky, together they do come. Faded lips and eyes of blue, they're carried in the wind.