with no apparent beauty that man should him desire he was the promised savior to purify with fire the world despised his plainness but those who followed
i have made this plea on my knees a hundred times before no windows open to my soul shining light i've waited for i've prayed my whole life to feel this
perfect love, purest love breaking through my anguish precious love, endless love his love never fails me he leads my heart when my eyes can't see when
Salvador The afternoon sunlight Is folding around us The dishes are done The buildings here Tall as our mountains Slice through the windows And cut off
Oh, looking like another Bob Marley day Hitting from the bong like a diesel train And now we're hanging out this afternoon We got weeds in the backyard
Yeah, on the remix to up Sunday afternoon, yo DOA, bring it to me, baby Well, well, well Listen to me, baby I Bright and early Sunday morning I go to
Made me kiss you with a whisper And violently you swung through an unfamiliar tongue Couldn't listen to tradition Grab me by the wrist to silently insist
Anticipation has the habit to set you up For disappointment in evening entertainment but Tonight there?ll be some love Tonight there?ll be a ruckus, yeah
What is it that makes me just a little bit queasy? There's a breeze that makes my breathing not so easy I've had my lungs checked out with X rays I've
Es la tarde de Agosto, el sol remata. El dia castigando, con fuego abrasa. En los campos amarillos no queda un alma, todos han ido a la plaza. Y el sol
I swear it feels just like The clocks slow down for a while And the air tastes sweeter and breathing gets deeper As the clouds dance around the sunshine
left me sore (Left me sore) Really left me sore now, baby (Left me sore) Messed me up for sure and I don't mean Maybe 'cause you really left me sore
The tax man's taken all my dough And left me in my stately home Lazing on a sunny afternoon And I can't sail my yacht He's taken everythin' I've got
[Music by: P. Wagner] [Lyrics by: P. Wagner] Harold Walker was a banker He drove a Mercerdes-Benz He was a well respected, rich, young man He'd got a
Esta carta que estoy escribiendo Manana te la voy a mandar Sabras lo que estoy sufriendo, y tu sabras lo que esoty sufriendo y que no te he querido olvidar
Sittin' here countin' the cars goin' by And an hour must've been one or two The sheets are flappin' on momma's clothesline It's an old front porch swing
