Got no place to go But there's a girl waiting for me down in Mexico She's got a bottle of tequila, a bottle of gin And if I bring a little music, I can
She comes out on Fridays every time an' stands out in a line I could've been anyone she'd seen She waits another week to fall apart She couldn't make
I lit out from Reno, I was trailed by twenty hounds Didn't get to sleep last night 'till the morning came around. Set out runnin' but I take my time
that's when it all hurts the most I dream I never know anyone at the party and I'm always the host If dreams are like movies, then memories are films about ghosts
Manor sometime after two a.m. And talked a little while about the year I guess the winter makes you laugh a little slower, Makes you talk a little lower about
She sat right down on the sofa I said, "Where have you been? I've been waiting for you. Cause last night I had something so good These days get so
Well I guess you left me with some feathers in my hand Did it make it any easier to leave me where I stand? I guess there might not be too many who
She comes out on Fridays every time Stands out in a line I could have been anyone she'd seen She waits another week to fall apart She couldn't make
Start tearing the old man down Run past the heather and down to the old road Start turning the grain into the ground Roll a new leaf over In the
paved paradise, and put up a parking lot [Vanessa] Ooooh, bop bop bop Ooooh, bop bop bop [Adam] Hey farmer, farmer, put away your DDT I don't care about
break And I'm not going to worry about it anymore I'm not gonna bend. And I'm not gonna break and I'm not gonna worry about it anymore It seems like
She can't keep away from them Waits here and disappears From the wrong things she intends (?) Pretty soon they've got you hanging on a line Pretty
I want to be Bob Dylan Mr. Jones wishes he was someone just a little more funky When everybody loves you, son, that's just about as funky as you can
Got no place to go but there's a girl waiting for me down in Mexico She's got a bottle of tequila, a bottle of gin And if I bring a little music I
Gonna get back to basics Guess I'll start it up again I'm fallin' from the ceiling You're falling from the sky now and then Maybe you were shot down
When I think of heaven deliver me in a black-winged bird I think of flying down into a sea of pens and feathers And all other instruments of faith
Albert's always sincere, he's a sensitive type His intentions are clear, he wanna be well-liked If everything is nothing, then are we anything? Is
Step out the front door like a ghost into the fog where no one notices the contrast of white on white. And in between the moon and you the angels