(Davis/Severinsen). Hey Mister. Where you going in such a hurry. Don't you think it's time you realized. There's a whole lot more to life than work and worry.
Another Sunday. Another one way road away from home. I keep thinking one day. I'm going to wake up far from what I've known. There's a man he's going to cheat me if he can.
Sittin' on a riverboat havin' a party. Me and my Cajun Queen. She's turnin' twenty-one on the Mississippi river. Headin' down to New Orleans. . The year is 1894.
In the sky - where my words are written. I want to read - I want to write. Poems for you - where noone can read them. Songs for you - that noone can hear.
(Lyrics & Music: G. Thorpe, L. Howe, C. Albert). There's a fire burnin'. And I feed it with my life. There's a new beginning. And I know that this is right.
Paintings of raging colors caressed by words of golden dust. To hide the darkest past under winter's veil. . Gemalde tobender Farben unter dem Schleier des Winters.
I see you dreaming by the ocean window. I hear you breathing like the waves upon the shore. The tide is turning on your time of sorrow. You will never be so lonesome any more.
The laws of reason tend to leave me cold. Ignore every season still I grow old and cold. I've continued my future by holding on to the past. And I blame my teachers for letting me run too fast.
(Davis/James). She's a woman. She's a baby. She's a witch. She's a lady. She's a free and gentle spirit. She can be what she wants to be. And if she wants to be with me tonight.
Riding out into the night. You know why and where to go. She can't wait to roll you right. She called you up and told you so. . Feel the wind now as it cleans away your past.
Thousand miles away from home. I offer myself to the sea. What have I done in the past?. Why can't you help me now?. . My body is a part of the waves.
Looking to the sky wishing for a sun. Lowering the high before the trip's begun. Passing time acting blind taking the easy way out. Every day you spend wasting away.
DAVID WILCOX. BREAKFAST AT THE CIRCUS 1987. PUSH PUSH PUSH. . Into the struggle we're born. Some people call it a rat race. Blind ambition all over his face.
Oh Lord it's hard to be humble. when you're perfect in every way.. I can't wait to look in the mirror. cause I get better looking each day.. To know me is to love me.
When the sun is rolling. Over the horizon. That I can almost touch it. I reach out my hand for the light. That lets my heart chant. . I have the feeling like being torn apart.
I lay down my head in deepest sorrow. And feel the emptiness of my soul. Nothing is left but your image. A fading picture is my blackened mind. . A black swan dies an it's tears.
Elvis Presley. In The Ghetto (The Vicious Circle). ==================================. As the snow flies. On a cold and gray Chicago mornin'. A poor little baby child is born.
There's a bleeder in my kitchen. And he's pouring on my floor. There's a killer in my hallway. And he's scratching at my door. I think I might have heard some screaming.
I respect what you can do. But I'd say the same about a gun. Depends which side of you they see. Some feel safe and some will run. . There's so much fight you keep in store.
I could just sit around making music all day long.. As long as I'm making my music, ain't gonna do nobody no harm.. And who knows, maybe I'll come up with a song.