on to what is gone What's left of me? Walk, fall Stand again so I can Walk, fall Stand again so I can Walk, fall Stand again so I can fall I stand
what is gone What's left of me?! Walk! Fall! Stand again so I can Walk! Fall! Stand again so I can Walk! Fall! Stand again so I can FALL!!! I
Traduction: Story Of The Year. Falling Down.
on to what is gone What's left of me?! Walk! Fall! Stand again so I can Walk! Fall! Stand again so I can Walk! Fall! Stand again so I can FALL
That a love story can reach a dead end And often leaving is better than fights" But why are so much memories of you filling up my mind When darkness' falling down
get a gun right in my face And they fighting for my life... I'm fighting the case And I ain't trying to be the story they twist in the press Like: the
My sixteen year old tattooed woman Heard a story She got busted for her beauty oh oh oh Oh oh! Once upon a looking-for-Donna-time There was a sixteen year
on my life, Z-Ro never been shife Cat don't come around me, just let me ball If I fall off my note, then let me fall Needed help from God, did he get
Closing down for the season, I found the last of the souvenirs I can still taste the wedding cake and it's sweet after all these years These are the
down and dirty Nigga, you know the story, don't make me, boil me Let's get ready for war Last year we was humble, nigga, this year we heartless So
by the year 2000 I'll be thuggin, but so immaculate I gotta get some money, blast if I get hungry So if you read that I done flipped, then you know the story
long fightin the bullshit for so many years Watchin the danger and niggaz double crossin they peers Yes I always fight for what is right and put my foot down
cross over his lips and my life falls apart And giving to ourselves and suffer and falling from high And goind down and going down on the tile Et tant
put these rags to use There were rags of many colours, and every piece was small And I didn't have a coat and it was way down in the fall Mamma sewed
That I asked you to come in But you brought me tumbling down And the walls came caving in Won't you help me dry my tears? Help me roll away the years
my shell. I'm falling. I'm shedding my skin. But it's not time I'm told. I am aware of what you mean and by then, I'm only ten years old. I close my
beautiful when they laugh . . . Don: That's what my psychiatrist used to say . . . Phyllis: Twelve years. It's the same story there with that song, I
