Nick Lowe/Dave Edmunds/Billy Bremner Plangent Visions Music, Ltd. Now I can remember like it was only yesterday Love was young and foolish like a little
[Intro : Killah Priest] I just zone out When I'm Writing Yo [Killah Priest] The weed is lit it's given like an Indian gift Passed around in a cipher '
Born on a Sunday, everyday is Monday That is what I've heard about the real world Up on the morning, heading for the schoolyard Big boys being bullies
Make me dance, I want to surrender Your familiar arms I remember We've been going transcontinental Got no car, we just take a rental But we don't have
I saw you around When you were young and free How did I know? Try, but I can't remember How it began (Back in the day) Was there a plan? (Follow my way
j'ai marche dans le couloir j'ai ouvert la porte j'ai touche ton foulard j'ai joue quelques notes sur le piano blanc au milieu du salon j'avais pas la
We fell in love and you threw it away You're lookin' for that perfect thing to say You're no good with words, well, that's okay That's why I write songs
El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta El viento de la noche gira en el cielo Oir la noche inmensa, mas inmensa sin ella. Y el verso cae al alma
I'm gonna write a song that the whole wide world can sing It's gonna be about sunshine and praise every living thing It's gonna be about love the one
J'ai marche dans le couloir, j'ai ouvert la porte J'ai touche ton foulard, j'ai joue quelques notes Sur le piano blanc, au milieu du salon J'avais pas
I make my living with paper and pencil, and an old guitar I use melody and words that rhyme to tug at other's hearts But mine is still too tender, to
EVERY WORD I WRITE WRITERS GEORGE RICHEY, ROGER BOWLING, JAN CRUTCHFIELD I've been sitting here alone all night Thinking 'bout things that I'm gonna
I thought I'd write to Juliet For she would understand And when someone is already dead They can no longer let you down Instead I find myself talking
If they asked me, I could write a book; About the way you walk, and whisper; And look. I could write a preface; On how we met; That the world will never
Folks sit around with their face in a frown and gape about the way things they are They're happy to recieve but they hardly ever want to give I'm so tired
( Instrumental )
Pour ne pas oublier Ma main seule de tes regards Sans fin j'
