Slow down, you movin' too fast You gotta make the moment last Just kickin' down the cobblestones Lookin' for fun and Feelin' groovy____________ Hello
Paraphernalia, never hides your broken bones And I don't know why you'd want to try It's plain to see you're on your own I ain't blind, no some folks
What I dream I had, dressed in organdy Clothed in crinoline, of smoky Burgundy Softer than the rain I wandered empty streets, down past the shop displays
The Mississippi Delta was shining Like a national guitar I am following the river Down the highway Through the cradle of the Civil War I'm going to Graceland
If she stays, she stays here. The girl does what she wants to do. She knows what she wants to do. And I know I'm fakin' it, I'm not really makin' it.
Lord, I'm a working man And music is my trade I'm travelin' with this five-piece band I play the ace of spades I have a wife and family Who don't see
The night was black, roads were icy Snow was fallin', drifts were high And I was weary, from my driving And I stopped to rest for a while I sat down
Yesterday it was my birthday I hung one more year on the line I should be depressed, my life's a mess But I'm having a good time Oh, I've been loving
I was having this discussion In a taxi heading downtown Rearranging my position On this friend of mine who had a little bit of a breakdown I said, hey
Guitar (simon) & violin (stephane grappelli) Instrumental
Yeah, well getting ready Yeah, oh yeah Getting ready, yeah Getting ready From early in November to the last week of December I got money matters weighing
We're homeless, we're homeless, we're homeless The moonlight sleeping on a midnight lake We're homeless, we're homeless The moonlight sleeping on a midnight
One and one-half wandering Jews Free to wander wherever they choose Are traveling together in the Sangre de Cristo The Blood of Christ Mountains of New
It was the morning of October 6th, 1960 I was wearing my brown suit Preparing to leave the house of D Shook some hands then adios Brooklyn amigos Maybe
We heard the fireworks. Rushed out to watch the sky. Happy go lucky. Fourth of July. How can you live in the Northeast? How can you live in the South?
A winter's day, in a deep and dark December I am alone, gazing from my window to the streets below On a freshly fallen silent shroud of snow I am a rock
He was my brother Five years older than I He was my brother Twenty-three years old the day he died Freedom writer They cursed my brother to his face
Acts of kindness, like breadcrumbs in a fairytale forest, lead us past dangers as light melts the darkness. But I don't believe, and I'm not consoled