pop a bottle She a model hen she lickin it If I'm going down I'm eating it like? Knocking on my dressing room Just to get freaking chris She spillin my chris
Well my furrows are filled with corn, I have my woman to keep me warm, But there's one thing that I do fear, That eastern wind is getting near; There
When the angry sky, opens up its mouth, And lays down a belt of rain from the north to the south; Close your windows and close all your doors, And pray
l'monde se bat, personne n'se barre La survie d'tous ou la mort, une devise Brolik Verbal kheye J'mets ton crew, ton label en vente sur Ebay Money time
passe avancer poussiere d'empire j'reve de toucher la voie lactee personne peut nous ralentir y'a que dieu pour nous juger gosse du divorce vent
a bottle she a model when she lickin it if im going down im eating it like ? knocking on my dressing room just to get flick with Chris she spillin my chris
I'm not waiting, I'm not waiting. I have pictures in my troubled past, and their shaped like broken glass. I have memories I kept of you, I return them
Here I stand and I'm waiting Here I stand and I'm waiting Here I stand and I'm waiting down Where I used to meet you down Where the world was our toy
Last night we rode our broncs in Seattle me and Bill packed the car in the pourin' rain Witch and John were at the beer stand gettin' sprung But we got
I hear a sound and turn to see A new direction on that rusty weather vane Suddenly the dead brown leaves are stirred To scratch their circle dances down
Standing in the foyer of the grand hotel, Suitcase in his hand looking for a bill, There's a hurricane coming and everyone's trying to get away; Time
When the angry sky, opens up its mouth And lays down a belt of rain from the north to the south Close your windows and close all your doors And pray for
There's something in the wind that's blowin' through my soul And it's calling out to me saying boy it's time to go There's a restless feeling in my heart
Driving down from the highland line We done some gigs on the Clyde and the Tyne They flew us in from a Hamburg strip The taste of Dusseldorf still on
mist Grabbing the sheets and balling her fists Close your eyes go deeper than this Ex-hale and caress, the way it was meant I guess it's another way that we vent
star, a clock watching drone, who's breath stinks of liquor, all stoned like lawn gnomes. No girlfriend, no hook ups, just lovelorn and fucked up, no friend to just vent
I can see that little stage All the hands up in the air Bombers and blues gonna see us through Got my new lime suit mohair With a single vent sixteen