Make me blind Cover my eyes You can do what you want I'm paralyzed by the perfect mood When we're dancing with blindfolds on You make it easy to love
Oh, you can kiss me on a Monday A Monday, a Monday is very very good Or you can kiss me on a Tuesday A Tuesday, a Tuesday in fact I wish you would Or
THE SOLDIER'S LAST LETTER (Ernest Tubb - Henry Stewart) « © '44 Cross Music » The postman delivered a letter it's filled her old heart
A quiet little town with happy go people gatherin' after church with a little steeple Singing on a Sunday singing on a Sunday The week is over and the
I'm hit me, 'cause I'm not tripping I know I'll make the right decision Yep, I'm gonna get this up on my head Feel me, no trouble sleeping No more tears
Today is the first day of the rest Of our lives Tomorrow is too late to pretend Everything's alright now I'm not gettin' any younger as long As you don
(Peter Cowap) You've walked out on the in crowd with a girl that you've just met for a little late night livin' on your own and you want to dance till
I hate your guts on Sunday no other day of the week I hate your guts on Sunday but Monday morning you look so sweetI hate your guts on Sunday and I'm
Looking backward No one after Last November Seems so long, long, long ago I was happy With what we had But it was little and now it's gone, gone, gone
It's the turning of the leaves It's the way you looked at me when you said one and one makes one And I tried just to believe that some things will always
It's my last summer in New York Thinkin' 'bout Berlin I thought We'd pulled it together And she went back on it all again The boys from forest hills
On Sunday Director gets in And changes the lighting Shooting the scene they begin Four minutes on The romance is blooming Preparing the costume she
About Last Night ( About Last Night EP ) This is all About last night This is all About last night The lights are low The diner is not what it seems
cannot ease the fever flaming in your eyfs can't close out the frequence lusting for the lie when your depression slowly leaves the world around you starts
When last I spoke to Carol I said I can't pretend it gets easier She said, "I've hung on, I have edged Along this narrow ledge Since the day I was born
What are you about? Say something secret in an old order hush Trouble and suffering in a lovely rhythm A homespun clapboard, black strap thrush Devoted
When my battle is over When my race has been run All that lingers is memory Of a day almost done Feel the cold wind blowing See the days from long Now
Daylight feels right, feels like everything's alright Then it's gone again This passion moves on, with reason What are we gonna do to make it through
