Search results for 'way we were by idina menzel' Page #3,263

you now and I won't try

I've been searching for a way
To stay in dreams
Waking up and feeling sick and feeling dizzy
We're always ending, always ending

There once was a man named Timothy McVeigh
Who thought the government was gonna take guns away
He was turned down by the Army and wanted revenge

the rap game in a guillotine
Them man there are still
Talking to the gelatine
So I laugh I hear them say we're beefing
'Cah I just hear about them
And their

You might be the new model of this world
We're not much different from the machine
New toy is better than the old version

Hey kid, just ignore

Like a gallant knight you ride me fast
From Nancy to the Lac Léman
And by the way you grab my hand
And fall into the sand
I know you are not dangerous

You called me your heart attack
I called you my aphrodisiac
But before we met
I was a black box with a giant crack
From all the suckers trying

It's all the same, only the names will change
Every day, it seems we're wastin' away
Another place where the faces are so cold
I'd drive all night

by the rules
There's been a shootout in Saraland, addin' fuel to the fire
We got a couple families feudin' over fence posts and wires

It's been

they back away and run
Look at me directly, we're not done
Sometimes to do what's right
You have got to fight
Tooth and nail to break rules and chase

'round, 'round (skrrt)
Runnin' red lights on the road when I'm tryna find a way out of this town
By now I thought that I would love myself
I'll walk

you've been
My arms start to look like a crossroads
We're the only ones lost though
Buried in between

But I know it's not your fault
There was only

a fact
I'm all business in the front
And party in the back

From that mailbox
Ah, you wouldn't have a clue
That we're raising hell from Friday
'Til

touch the sky

(I miss you too)
(Where you at?)
(Aight, we're on our way right now)

everywhere you go
People having fun, 'cause it's a merry time of the year
A very good time of the year

'Cause we're all just children, With our own Christmas

and she was his daughter
And I was the country, we were young and I was water, I was rum
I don't let her round the Thompson no more
For she wanna go back

Edge of the swamp, St. Augustine
I watch the trains roll by on the other side 
Through the back porch screen
See the herons fly and the swamp grass