Every day I wake up and it's Sunday Whatever's in my eye won't go away The radio is playing all the usual And what's a Wonderwall anyway Because my inside
It's late in the evening She's wondering what clothes to wear She puts on her make up And brushes her long blonde hair And then she asks me, "Do I look
(D. Vaughn, M. Clayton, B. St.James) I must have stood on that runway for hours I must have watched a hundred planes fade away I said good-bye to every
Choking on a bone She comes wandering home Up the twisted stairwell Of the great unknown How we gonna warm If you're stealing our logs? And who's gonna
Dear mum, every thing's gone wrong And I wish, I'd listened to what you said Times you sat down on my bed And told me 'bout my life Dear mum, I've been
This is the last song that was ever written After this, nothing will rhyme This is the last time that you'll ever see us After this, you're gonna go
If you wanna hang out you've got to take her out, cocaine If you wanna get down, down on the ground, cocaine She don't lie, she don't lie, she don't lie
There is nothing that is wrong In wanting you to stay here with me I know you've got somewhere to go But won't you make yourself at home And stay with
She's got everything a man could ever ask for She is lovely, brighter than a morning star She is so beautiful, portrait of a sunset She got everything
There's no cause to think that I won't stay Haven't I been with you all the way? There's no time like now to make amends After all, we are more than friends
Every morning when I wake A feeling soon begins to overtake me Ringing in my ears resounds through my brain; it finally surrounds me There is fire, there
May you never lay your head down without a hand to hold May you never make your bed out in the cold And may you never lose your temper if you get hit
Well, that mean old dirty Frisco And that low down Santa Fe Mean old Frisco and that low down Santa Fe You know they take my girl away Lord, and they
All of this comes crashing down Cornerstone's gone sleepless, hopeless, no end in sight Ink well has run dry fill it with blood of the scribe Rest comes
Fat beat like an ax Coming down on the melody Time to give into, Better living through chemistry. 8 foot letters, I can't read the writing So if you
I woke up this morning baby The blues was pouring out of me Cent fois ces mots je les ai dits Ces mots que d'autres avaient ecrits De toute ma voix,
not your stereotypical type of individual , types of individual. far from the nonsense while peeps walk the street in their sleep, i stay conscious ready
If I were you, I'd write a letter I'd tell the world just how I feel If I were you, I'd make it better And as the world just watch the [Incomprehensible