rhyme They used to tell me toughen up Put some bass in your voice They used to tell me lighten up Put some Mase in your voice Lord willin' I ain't killt
next thing I know/ the telephone rings I hear my own voice /on the answering machine please leave a message/ I'm glad ya called I listen for a voice
lingered in the shadows to hide this face of mine I could barely hear the preacher barely hear the olders pray Then one night I heard the still small voice
a prayer You're crying out loud A face lost in the crowd A voice no-one can hear You'll get by on a wing and a prayer So let it be Let the breeze carry
a hanging case. [Roxie Hart] Hanging? [Martin Harrison] - I'm ready to go to the jury tomorrow. [Roxie Hart] Wait a minute, what do you mean hanging
they all swing in the same boat. Yeah....yeah, yeah Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah Yeah yeah In Southampton County 'round 1831 Nat Turner prayed and the cornstalks swayed A voice
I close my eyes and I find a way No need for me to pray I've walked so far I've fought so hard Nothing more to explain I know all that remains Is a piano
I pray for more I'm hungry and you won't feed me I'm starving And you won't Feed me. Michael Allen: Voice, Bass, Piano, Percussion, Drum Loops
a murder trial Plus I seen it everyday, but signatured in cursive style Motherfuckers be tattle tailing like they taking names So when they take a son they drive by I'll be taking aim Pressure to pian
rhyme They used to tell me toughen up Put some bass in your voice They used to tell me lighten up Put some mase in your voice Lord willin' I ain't kill
Signor Piangi . . . if you please . . . (REYER thumps the piano keys, then leaves the piano, and attempts to attract attention using signals. Al the height of the mayhem, the piano
in the same boat. Yeah....yeah, yeah Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah Yeah yeah In Southampton County 'round 1831 Nat Turner prayed and the cornstalks swayed A voice
. Come with me my children? We?ll ride the lightning home. You will return to what you once were. Follow the sound of my voice, your prayers have been
Behind a door Hand to face Conscience is the wound His hand for me a sovereign tone I pray him come I pray him soon There's a wolf in the piano On the
