I think I'll go to Heaven. And there I will lay me down. Leave all the pain behind me. I'll bury it in the ground. And maybe they'll talk about me. I pray it won't be lies.
I am on a Riverboat on the Saigon River. Where the music's too loud. While I try to have my dinner. Stories I've been told of 1954. . When the bodies washed ashore from that distant war.
Well, it's harvest time out on this Amarillo highway. Daydreamin' the South of France. I could whistle you out waltzin' there. Would you still say you can't?.
Oh, he was a friend of mine, he was a friend of mine. Never had no money to pay for his fine. He was a friend of mine. . He never done no wrong, he never done no wrong.
(Stephen Collins Foster). . Let us pause in life's pleasures and count its many tears. While we all tear sorrow with the poor. There's a song that will linger forever in our ears;.
Gulf coast highway, he worked the rails. He worked the rice fields with their cold dark wells. He worked the oil rigs in the Gulf of Mexico. The only thing we've ever owned is this old house here by the road.
Grapefruit moon, one star shining. Shining down on me. I heard that tune and now I'm pining. Honey, can't you see?. . Every time I hear that melody. Something breaks inside.
Flippin' bottle caps through the ring around the moon. All alone on a Saturday night with the stars in bloom. I am a vision of my mother's dream come true.
My mother came to America. Sailed through the harbor of hopes and of dreams. Back in the Thirties with the streets paved in gold. And the sky laced with moonbeams.
Oh the city snow makes your brown eyes shine. We've gotta look real hard to find a reason to cry. New York, New York is a friend of the traveling kind.
There's a lighthouse in the harbor. Giving guidance with its light. But I had no one to return to. As I wandered through the night. . From the first time that I saw you.
(Buddy Mondlock). . Flipped into the wind. Like the ashes of her cigarette. He got scattered thrown on the breeze. As he tried to forget. He lost all his heat.
Down at the station the tracks are cold. The wheels of thunder, they roll no more. And the heart of America cries for the souls. Who won't be rollin' home.
(Ralph McTell). . Four who shared this room and we caught up in the CRAIC. Sleeping late on Sundays and we never got to Mass. . Chorus. It's a long way from Clare to here.
From a distance the world looks blue and green. And the snow-capped mountains white. From a distance the ocean meets the stream. And the eagle takes to flight.
I am not a child, though you'll treat me as you've always seen me. You never saw the changes in a heart grown old and wise. Hey, it's good to see you smile, it's been so long between the pages.
I look out on these shields of heather. 'Cross this countryside. I wonder how they've grown together. While people live such separate lives. . Think I'll stay inside for the winter.
She drove west from Salt Lake City to the California coastline. She hit the San Diego Freeway doing sixty miles an hour. She had a husband on her bumper, she had five restless children.
Oh, its just another summer mornin', Baby, somewhere in this town. The heat is rising. Oh, I know where you spent last night so you can stop apologizing.
I am fragile in the morning, I grow stronger in the day. I can sprint like a new spring doe by the fall of night. Love has chased me down through the cities and the towns.