Lyrics:
the saints go marching in
Lord how I want to be in that number
When the saints go marching in
Oh, when the trumpet sounds its call
Oh, when the trumpet
a king
Now you can disagree or kiss the ring
Either way nigga's kneel to my feet
Don't be late and if you make it in
Time to hear the trumpets, i
Know you
Recline and I'll sit still
Might as well turn up now
He gon' pop up unannounced to the trumpets
Do you like the way it sounds?
Saw the future of the bounce
Well there ain?t no grave
Gonna hold my body down
Well there ain?t no grave
Gonna hold my body down
When I hear that trumpet sound
I?m gonna get up
Give me your love
Please girl
Omolomo baby girl say
Omolomo walo jogede
Omolomo baby girl say
Omolomo blow my trumpet
Omolomo baby girl say
Omolomo
the trumpets
Marchin' with the bandwagon
Looking for his heart, no sleeve
But his hand carry muskets
Working in the meadows, oblivion
Motherfuck Geppetto
bass in the band
Now when he picks on those strings
Happiness to you he brings
(Short bass break)
He blows on the trumpet in the band
Steve blows
me by the thunder. (thunder)
The trumpet sounds way down in my sanctified soul.
I haven't got long to stay here.
Green trees are bending. (are
with blood
Oh, when the trumpet sounds its call
Oh, when the trumpet sounds its call
Lord, how I want to be in that number
When
when the trumpet blows you know
I did it all on my own
Oh oh oh oh ohhh oh oh oh oh ohhh
I've been pushing hard
I've been praying harder
Only Heaven
okay *trumpet solo*
I'm okay. I'm okay
I'm okay. I'm not alcoholic
I'm okay (okay), I'm okay (he's okay)
I'm okay (all day), I'm not alcoholic
So off we go, let the Trumpets blow
But hold on
Because the driver of the mission is a pro
Everybody says
That my son is my spitting image
And now
you
Me and my boo wear the same size shoe
Wh-where are my trumpet-trumpet oh, oh, oh
Fa fa da fa fa da
Fa fa da fa fa da
Fa fa fa fa fa fa fa fa
I can't get that trumpet out of my head
I can't get that trumpet out of my head
I woke up and I can't get that trumpet out of my head
And you say
your mind, and folks unwind
And be kind to a rhythm that you hardly find
And off we go, let the trumpets blow
Well hold on, because the driver
of His praise
Follow in His holy ways upon my soul
And when I lay my troubles down
On my brow he'll place a crown
And the trumpets all shall sound upon my
Spela för mig spela för mig
Spela för mig på trumpet vad du känner i kväll
Ge mig en sång natten är lång
Spela mig vacker musik på din sorgsna
Clean Your Room (To The Trumpet Tune)
Words & Music by Erika Paul
From the cd entitled, "Scat's My Bag"
Wake up!
Get up!
And Clean Your Room
passion and it's deeper then yours
Passion and I'ma use it to score
I got passion deep in my soul
Victory is mine so let the trumpets blow
I got
Show our eyes true color. We want to hear the trumpet roar
We want to hear the trumpet roar
With words that trample the pagan's cavalry.
Pummel
nacho)
She said no and then she go I was sad so I made the trumpet solo
I'm so sad, I'm so sad, I'm so sad
Señorita call me today on the telephone (Ring,
BUSKING VAGABOND - ЗАЕЗЖИЙ МУЗЫКАНТ
This busking vagabond, standing on the corner
Trumpet on his tongue, is only passing through
You're not the one
Waiting for that trumpet's sound
When Jesus Christ is coming down
Broken but we're not defeated
In the dark my heart's still beating, Waiting for that
something’s gotta change.
Say it out loud: peace will come, everybody, shout: peace will come.
Blow the trumpet, beat the drum, peace will come.
Sometimes
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