Lyrics:
[originally performed by The Who]
[I. Her Man's Been Gone]
Her man's been gone
For nigh a year
He was due home yesterday
But he ain't here
Her
way back home (back home)
The old me is dead and gone, dead and gone
(Hey, ayy)
I turn my head to the East
I don't see nobody by my side
I turn
like a teen
Wish I could kill you that way you'd only
Exist in my memory
The idea of you could never be spoiled by
Your immaturity
Wish I could feel you
All right, let's start with the most basic
Question there is: Are
You a religious man? Do you believe in God?
Well, that'll do for openers i
Think I
a poor man's trouble
Yes Lord to help me home
I'm gonna buy me a poor man's trouble
Yes Lord to help me home
And when I get my trouble and woe
Then
sorry nigga, heh, I'm tryna come home, hey!
Now when the phone start to click in, your words start to echo
Say you got to hang up but the man won't let
Until the night he raped her
Followed her home
Pistol in her purse
Holdin' her own
Still haunted by the scent of his cologne
One in his dome, she
the old man
And drink it with him till I can't stand
Never been so lonely when I get home
I'm gonna hit up all the homies
And then we'll get stoned
See my
when you come home, hold on
To all of my fellas up in jail that's in there gettin' swell
That ordered my music, bought my music through music-by-mail
We
Now brave boys, we're on the march
Off to Portugal and Spain
Drums are beating, banners flying
The Devil at home will come tonight
So it's go, fare
much we probably numb to it by now
After all, it's the American way right?
Home of the brave and free (It's America)
Free just to murder me (land
so much we probably numb to it by now
After all, it's the American way right?
Home of the brave and free (It's America)
Free just to murder me
Both fucked the same bitch, just not the same night
You just took her phone number
I just took her home with a-
'Nother bitch, menage
Boomerang,
man, rich man's fool
Rich man, rich man never have dirty hands
Never hold a plow that's turnin' his land
Poor man holds it day by day
Did they make
Tired of taking when I'm taking
What they took from me
Tired of looking at the man in the mirror
Man cause that motherfucker gon make me
Wanna kill a man
Where yo home at? huh
Where is home
I'm on my way home
Where yo home at? huh
Where is home
I been on my own too long, too
Gone
Tell me, where yo home
esperam e não Vos amam.
Eu sou o Anjo da sua guarda, o Anjo de Portugal.
Sanctissimae Trinitatis Pater, Fili et Spiritus Sancte,
intime te adoro et
over your bitch
Coming over your shit
Got my feet up on you sofas, man
I mean a hostess for my open hand
You coming home to dishes and empty soda
come back home, home again
From now on, these eyes will not be blinded by the lights
And from now on, what's waited 'til tomorrow starts tonight
by cologne
I makes waves collide
I guess its known to whoever seen it
The way she struts her heels g on ma life its therapeutic
You only know bout
all by myself and on my own, at the age of 13 I was running in them homes
Man I remember that shit so clearly, man I had to make it out
Told them once
I saw the sun begin to dim
And felt that winter wind blow cold
A man learns who is there for him
When the glitter fades and the walls won't hold
sabem mastigar o beef sem dentes, comigo comem sopa
Este som é tão real, que mete a puta da vossa mente louca
Dizem que são os melhores em Portugal
Vocês
myself. I'm not by myself
anymore because the man I was before he was a tyrant, he was a slave, he was
in chains, he was broken and then he sang:
Oh,
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