Well it's taken so long to reach the time. Where we can go on or leave it behind. For better or worse so easy to say. But I choke on the words as you push me away.
Lay down your head and weep mama. Lay down next to me. Till you cross the borders of sleep mama. Lay down next to me. Wish no words of sorrow. Nor whisper words of spite.
Well I was pretty young. She was young and pretty. I was so naive. It was such a pity. I said now baby don't you waste your time. Just cryin' for me. I gotta go away for a while.
Mr. crown prosecutor. no matter what i say or do. you take money, to put whatever. may be the opposite view. what you see, is what i am. i will always be, an honest man.
I cried my tears in a glass of tequila. For a truck-stop honey with a dubious name. She held my heart like a blackjack dealer. And took my money when she left the game.
Wired but alive. At the break of the day. As the last few survivors. Fall away, fall away. . And I get a little lost sometimes. A little lost sometimes.
Khẽ. . Khẽ bàn tay thật khẽ ru lên tiếng đàn. Từng đêm vẫn những âm trầm. TÌnh yêu đó mãi chỉ là những nốt âm thầm. . Khẽ, lời ca thật khẽ tô lên nét buồn.
I left my heart to the sappers 'round Khe Sahn. And I sold my soul with my cigarettes, to a black market man. I've had to Vietnam cold turkey, from the ocean to the silver city.
Lovers see the world through an old, red wine. All the sounds of the blues, just disappear. With a light like yours beside me. It's been an old, old red wine year.
Jet-lag cramps the lonely face. Cheek-bones pinched and tired. It's a cold tarmac breeze. That wraps the terminal around. Flight-times drag the night along.
Janelle, Janelle, Janelle. So far away. Goodnight, sweet dreams. The world is well. Janelle, Janelle, Janelle. . Lookin' through your photograph. Talking through the telephone.
Every night when I go home. I settle down to prime-time limbo. When all the boys are gathered around. Shoutin' "Ita's on TV". And though the roaches are thick on the ground.
Hiked up to Sydney in the week before Christmas. It was thirty-eight degrees in the shade. Bought a second-hand Morris for a cheap two-twenty. And drove it down to Adelaide.
There's someone out there hangin' around. Mentioning your name all over town. Some old flame of yours. Someone you knew. And he can't believe it's over with you.
I've been forty days and forty nights. In television land. I'd kill myself with cigarettes. If I could find my hands. . Livin' in a ghost town. . Take this will and testament.
Georgia, Georgia. The whole day through (the whole day through). Just an old sweet song. Keeps Georgia on my mind (Georgia on my mind). . I'm say Georgia, Georgia.
Kids out driving Saturday afternoon just pass me by. I'm just savouring familiar sights. We shared some history, this town and I. And I can't stop that long forgotton feeling of her.
They're calling "Time for exercise". Round Her Majesty's hotel. The maid'll hose the room out when I'm gone. I never knew such luxury. Until my verdict fell.
The morning breeze is off and gone. The winding factory streets are clean. Old ladies put the kettle on. And all-night lechers pause and lean. On grey shop windows, everywhere.
Well Daskarzine, she was pretty bland. As she stretched out in the corner of the room. She was Oh! so lazy with her pistol hand. As her hair hung hot off the loom.