Lyrics:
here on business, baby
I'm only here for fun
And Rosie, you're the one
Rosalita, jump a little lighter
Señorita, come sit by my fire
I just want to be
She played the fiddle in an Irish band
But she fell in love with an English man
Kissed her on the neck and then I took her by the hand
Said,
where I left my mind behind
Will you meet me by the river
I'm stripping bare
Will you meet me by the river
I want you to breathe in this air
I'm placing
Goin' down to Lillian's music store
To buy a black diamond string
Gonna wind it up on my guitar
Gonna make that silver sing
Like it was
Goin' down to Lillian's music store
To buy a black diamond string
Gonna wind it up on my guitar
Gonna make that silver sing
Like it was
of money.
Like I say ol' Jack Johnson he was a pugilist,
He was a pugilist by preference and by profession
And one day ol' Jack came walkin' on down by
blue sky and clean air
Where the eagle glides high above the canyons
And makes his nest in the rocks that overlook the valleys
Where the sagebrush
you bring me down
I'm getting over you by singing it out loud
Hey, my dear
Lately I don't really care
I'm moving on with a breath of fresh air
Writing
a pond
I got three bitches like I'm Owen Hart (three bitches)
And my glasses, they made by chrome heart
I got rich, now I fill up a shoppin' cart
Take a look through my kaleidoscope
See the diamonds as they flicker in the air
They were once part of a dinosaur
And that's enough to prove
You and I counting, desert stars and,
Lovers, one by one.
While mandolins and steel guitars,
Help our love along.
Who could show you, ever know
the air, a pilot's losing his track
Which cloud to go to? nothing there is like the map
Up in the mountain, a climber's reaching the peak
To plant her flag,
and still
Surrounded by the hustle, I longed for something more
A slower pace, a little grace, land yet to explore
So tell 'em I'm coming back, back to where
as I sit and dream.
Mornings are my favorite times
The air's alive with buoyancy.
It's later in the afternoon
That this gravity starts to get to me.
cnd
Sitting on the corner singing songs as pretty people pass me by
Janet smokes a cigarette while Pam's in front of me she's getting high
Singing songs
votes
(or, in places where they don't get to vote, to control unwanted forms of
mass behavior).
Environmental laws were not passed to protect our air
moonlight
c chill in the air, but we didn't care, when you pulled me close, you knew I wouldn't dare
We were hit by the moon tonight
We were hit by the moon
of love but I'm coming up for air
Now don't be fooled by fools who promise you
The world and all that glitters more fool you
I smell the sickness sown
at bikinis goin by in a|bass boat||Life is good and only gettin better|I got no worries livin free as a feather|My guitar floats, back porch is my boat|Just
air
Not the collision, but the passing through
Ignorance of the anticipated explosion
Swift, arpeggiotic melodies contrasting slow steadfast ambience
ass by mistake
And the cliches are gettin' eaten up
By the termites with the malt liquor
And the guitar tuners and the pussy galore song
That's why
Saturday nights waiting by the phone...
And if you're ever in town, you may be on your own. (The guitar solo
...is a guitar and not a damn saxophone.)
No umbrella in the rain tonight
Sounds right
I might as well have stayed inside
And not read blue skies by their pretty covers
Joke's on me
I do
a sprint
Hey, lookie lookie Nashville rookie
She'll be blacked out by twelve at tootsies
Up on the stage up on the bar
Dancing and rocking that air guitar
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