It's a bad idea to go down to the pier by yourself after dark Bad idea 'cause they're down on their luck And they've lost touch with their bleeding hearts
It's a bad idea, to go down to the pier by your self after dark. It's a bad idea, cause they're down on their luck and they've lost touch with their
Překlad: My Morning Jacket. Bear.
: It's a bad idea, to go down to the pier by your self after dark. It's a bad idea, cause they're down on their luck and they've lost touch with their
1: brotha lynch hung) Fuck these hoes Its the re-do You know how we do Every single bitch ya'll From the psycho active album From my nigga x (nerferious) Bear
and no one to cock block Slow down big fella, I think, you're gassing me (Why?) P, get off my big dick, chill, stop harassing me Your dick, you mean my
bee in my body tiger in my tan I was on my maiden voyage spent my night with a saint They call me jack of hearts did some one say a name My mother was
it for, nobody in here Look in the mirror my friend I don't understand at best I cannot speak for all the rest In the morning rise a lifetime's
my skull that hides behind my hair and skin, I see the selfsame skull of my father, and beyond the skull of my father, the skull of my grandfather, and the skull of my
Singing through the green green trees Oh saddle me up my fine grey mare Cried the lord of the house next morning For my servants tell me my daughter's gone With Black Jack
him Singing through the green green trees Saddle me up my fine gray mare Cried the lord of the house next morning For the servants tell me my daughter's gone With Black Jack
'd mend my television? Wouldn't people lay about without some supervision? Who'd drive the fire engines? Who'd fix my video? If there were no prisons,
my boy your poor old father wants you Come home my boy your dear old mother's dead Your mother's last words she ever uttered Was tell my boy I want him
effect, sole defenders of the longest night new york had never slept, and there were jumping jacks and whistlers over christmas, like rockets from the crypt spilling the festive morning
my head and in silence and in sorrow The sunshine in my life it all had left Since the postman brought that letter yesterday morning Saying come home my
my boy your dear old mother's dead The last words your mother ever uttered Were tell my boy I want him to come back My eyes are blurred my poor old
I say? You're my genius girl You're my genius girl Girl, you're my genius girl, my genius girl Girl, you're my genius girl You're jack of all trades
my head in sorrow and in sadness The sunshine of my life, it all had fled When the post man brought that letter yesterday morning "Saying come home my
