Yeah, yeah I don't know what else to say I can't, I can't think of nothin' I'm stumped Here we go On your feet Stand up Everybody hands up Uh, man,
Yeah, yeah I don't know what else to say I can't, I can't think of nothin' I'm stumped Here we go (Here we go) On your feet (On your feet) Stand up (
(G) I DREAMED THAT THE GREAT JUDGEMENT (C) MORNING, HAD (G) DAWNED, AND THE TRUMPET HAD (D7) BLOWN, I (G) DREAMED THAT ALL NATIONS HAD (C) GATHERED, TO
You wait for a silence, I wait for a word Lie next to your frame, girl unobserved You change your position and you are changing me Casting these shadows
Wielder of words is steeped within traditional verbs and curiously a dented top hat discovered in the moonlit Laundromat A busted cheroot is smoking
The days of wine and roses Are distant days for me I dream of the last and the next affair And of girls I'll never see And here I sit The retired writer
I'm a reader and a writer Not a lover or a fighter When it comes to push and shove I'm as peaceful as a dove I'm a tiger in the night When I'm talking
In these words that crash my ears I now stomach this in fear With the turn I gathered name as the bastard's son Who by fire I would come Through this
It doesn't matter what I say, it could be anything. All that matters is what they hear, and fuck, it can be beautiful Fuck. We'll turn it into something
Save face and leave, before she gets mean You know how to act, you scripted the scene This film's more a short, a monologue of sorts Whatever is invalidate
I'm the writer got a front page cover Hot gossip 'bout who's with their latest lover I write all chapters by the second scene I call the shots, don't
In Corsica the engines blew Your favorite writer died In a car, in a crash Died in a fire, imagine that In a car, in a crash Die in a fire, imagine that
I must have got up about twenty to seven Had a shower and had breakfast And had a couple of pieces of toast You know, forced it down Then had a cup of
Thumbtacks all spread out across your hometown state A hollow tree at half mast Wait until wintertime, leaves a paper trail And a licorice plant that'
3:41 AM, make that 3:42 Time just keeps rolling on while I'm here stuck like glue So many things cross my mind But nothing stays awhile, so frustrating
The other side of the room An empty bottle lies broken Purple faces are sure Of snow white sheets to soak in His clothes are spread around They smell
Scribe and Ali and yeah, we still together Through the stormiest weather its been along forever Holding it down in the south surrounded by the southern
