Strictly Mr. Thompson goes to work everyday. Except Saturdays, Sundays, and national holidays. He leaves at three. He used to leave at four. But the commute over the Altamont.
Come gather 'round people. Wherever you roam. And admit that the waters. Around you have grown. And accept it that soon. You'll be drenched to the bone.
I'm being hopelessly optimisticyou're an honest crook. The poor reputation your love gets should make you look. It gets pretty ugly. I'm clearly misunderstood.
Inflammable material's implanted in my head. It's a suspect device that left two thousand dead. . If you said goodbye to me tonight. There would still be music left to write.
You call you call. The tvs up the lights are on. You say you say. I miss you how work was today. Youre gone youre gone. Some corporate thing away from home.
[Originally by Simon & Garfunkel]. I am just a poor boy though my story's seldom told. I have squandered my resistance. For a pocketful of mumbles. Such are promises.
I turned on the radio just the other day. I let out a holler, I let out a hey. Something's wrong here, but I've paid my dues. My favorite radio station stopped playing the blues.
Heard it from a friend who heard it from a friend who. Heard it from another you've been messin' around. They say you got a boyfriend, you're out there every weekend.
He said, "practice Electra. You might need me someday. Though the wind blows your hair, tugs you around. I know you won't blow away". Yes, my name is Electra.
[Originally by Gloria Jones]. Sometimes I feel I've got to. Run away, I've got to. Get away. From the pain. You drive into the heart of me. The love we share.
Dawn looked through the wall. Where she saw the end. Then someone shuffled papers. And she returned again. She covered her ears in anger. And stomped out of the door.
If I were a mocking bird. I'd mock you. In soft winds. And silent words. I'd spot you. Like snow blushing in the sunlight. And I'd melt you. Like morning into twilight.
Long ago and, oh, so far away. I fell in love with you before the second show. Your guitar, it sounds so sweet and clear. But you're not really here, it's just the radio.
Hello, it's me again. I tried to call you yesterday. I tried a couple times before. But another call got in the way. I think I know that you're at home.
Lately, I watch the coffee perk, give my cup a stir. It looks dire sir, it's a voice I've heard. There is no cure, there are no words, I'm not sure. But it seems like a perfect way to lose me.
Well, I woke up Sunday mornin'. With no way to hold my head that didn't hurt. And the beer I had for breakfast wasn't bad. So I had one more for dessert.
Summertime and the living is easy. Fish are jumpin' and the cotton is high. Oh, you're daddy's rich and your mom is good lookin'. So hush, little baby, don't you cry.
Maybe I can't bend all the way. Without breaking slightly. But I tell thee truly I was not born. With the string that winds me tightly. . But I guess bad habits are born.