Jethro Tull lyrics
Jethro Tull lyrics
"Wind-Up lyrics"
The Sweetest Illusion lyrics
bread and butter tastes more like it could be _cordon bleu_ mona lisa's smiling like a cheshire cat even johnny rocker soun
When I was young and they packed me off to schoolbread and butter tastes more like it could be _cordon bleu_ mona lisa's smiling like a cheshire cat even johnny rocker soun
and taught me how not to play the game,
I didn't mind if they groomed me for success,
or if they said that I was a fool.
So I left there in the morning
with their God tucked underneath my arm --
their half-assed smiles and the book of
Let It Go lyrics
How come some people think they know things about other people when those people don't know those things even themselves. Some people seem to
rules.How come some people think they know things about other people when those people don't know those things even themselves. Some people seem to
So I asked this God a question
and by way of firm reply,
He said -- I'm not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.
So to my old headmaster (and to anyone who cares):
before I'm through I'd like to say my prayers --
I don't believe you:
you had the whole damn thing all wron
Woodgrain & Leather Wit A Hole lyrics
[Intro: Nelly] Come over baby, come over here, sit down sit down I need to talk to you for a second baby Umm, I really been, kicki
g --[Intro: Nelly] Come over baby, come over here, sit down sit down I need to talk to you for a second baby Umm, I really been, kicki
He's not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.
Well you can excomunicate me on my way to Sunday school
and have all the bishops harmonize these lines --
how do you dare tell me that I'm my Father's son
when that was just an accident of Birth.
I'd rather look around me -- compos
Could Have Fooled Me lyrics
I'm fading like the taillights Of a car that you pass In the middle of the night Man it's lonely out here There just ain't enough g
e a better songI'm fading like the taillights Of a car that you pass In the middle of the night Man it's lonely out here There just ain't enough g
`cos that's the honest measure of my worth.
In your pomp and all your glory you're a poorer man than me,
as you lick the boots of death born out of fear.
I don't believe you:
you had the whole damn thing all wrong --
He's not the kind you have to wind up on Sundays.