There was a sad gypsy clown who could make you cry With a lick of guitar and a Spanish Fly And every night was a wild thing awaiting To fill the world
With a smile I looked straight at him And I could feel his latin melody When he spoke I heard the rhythm of a spanish guitar He touched my hand I felt
interred here in Santiago...I picked up a CD collection of music emanating from the pilgrimage route to Santiago, as well as a CD by Spanish group Els
A subtle whistle-wind, the dusty old truck. By the trees on the streets. Blow like space mountain ridin. The spanish hold me down back there in at Disneyland
; the moon was shining bright If only I had known that it would end so soon I was left with a picture of the moon The sound of soft guitars beneath the Spanish
; But the bravest of these was a man by the name Of Ivan Skavinsky Skivar. He could imitate Irving, play Euchre and pool And perform on the Spanish Guitar
hangin' out in Mexico, I had a beach front bungalow I know I should have gone home but I was doin' that Caribbean thing I was listenin' to a Spanish guitar
after them l'll ride Well I had not rode 'till the midnight moon I saw their campfire gleaming I heard the notes of the big guitar And the voice of
you belong to my heart now and forever when our love had it's start not long ago we we're gathering stars while a spanish guitar played our love songs
Take me along with you tonight She came late for the tank parade With emancipation song Plugged in a guitar and played And sang of Spanish bombs Jackknifed
're lookin' for that man, here I am December nights, all cuddled up Warmed by the fire and sharin' a cup Of hot cocoa and laughin' at old photos Spanish guitars
Well the cops they let their faces show and rips this holy night The streets alive with tough-kid jets in nova-light machines Boys flash guitars like
La la la la la la. Sha Drivin' down the road in a big blue car, With the top way down, a night full of stars, An' my Bulldog, Jake, playin' Spanish guitar
for the memory of me And oh my beautiful guitar, that?s what really broke my heart Had been stolen by the two-faced lothario Oh my beautiful guitar
They came marchin' down the street in robes In the spirit of the Spanish Inquisition Guitars and trombones Mechanical monkeys make good musicians Streets
Under the stars, Spanish guitars Sing the Santa Maria outside my room The music's playing on a sweet bougainvillea breeze Romantically, oh, but not for
through the city Step right up and show your face, we only want the pretty ones She plays the queen of the fleapit, he plays a Spanish guitar He got
When her eyes met mine, the room filled with Spanish guitars The kerosene in my blood Came on like a flood As I stood to take her away To a Black Spanish