Search results for deepest blues are black by foo fighters

We've found 12 lyrics, 100 artists, and 100 albums matching deepest blues are black by foo fighters:


Albums:

Madame Foo Foo (Dakota Staton) · The String Quartet Tribute to the Foo Fighters: Resident Adolescence (Hutchinson, Hutch) · Guitar Tribute to the Foo Fighters (Hutchinson, Hutch) · Foo Fighters (Foo Fighters) · Foo Fighters (Foo Fighters) · Foo Fighters (Foo Fighters) · Foo Fighters (Foo Fighters) · Foo Fighters [Bonus Tracks] (Foo Fighters) · Maximum Foo Fighters Audio Book (Foo Fighters) · The String Quartet Tribute to Foo Fighters: Ordinary Heroes (Hutchinson, Hutch) – and 90 other albums »


flew the skyways, and honey wasn't made by the bee
If black was blue, if I was you, I'd come back to me

There's no way for you to know
How much that I
held up by stars
Were my arms to short to ransom you from broken skin and black and blue
Stitch your eyes so you could read this forever
It's been
got to roll, roll, roll with the punches
If all life offers is black and blue
You've got to roll, roll, roll with the punches

Little weapons over
and bumy, you yellin' for you mommy
And people think its funny, quit tryin' to out run me
Your eyes are blue and black and, your clothes are ripped
Your eyes are blue and black and your clothes are ripped and tackin'
You thought that you could hack it, you shouldn't have wore that jacket

'Cuz I
a white collar by his white evil eye
Fight or flight, yo, that's just what it is
When you see a pig, hit him in his baby back ribs
But don't trip, I'm just
From the first gray light of the morning I've been gone
On my journey towards the stars
Will I know when I reach the other side
The earth so blue
"Blacks are too fuckin broke to be republicans"

In this land I can't stand or sit 
and not get shit thrown up in my face 
A brotha never gets
like to do that now, I've written some haikus
Haikus are Japanese poems consisting of 17 syllables, three lines
Five, seven, five
And I find them
A speck in the wide blue sea. 'Tis the last of all the land.
A dweller upon our lonesome isle, the last, lonely man? -

By the Gods he is there to never
a leggin on Misses Dancee 
BLAM! BLAM! We comin out and yes you are the don 
You hold for the mic upon they call me lyrical champion 
Me bigga me black
And the beats are usually done by duro and clue

Who in the hell wanna battle, the ill mathematical?
My motherfuckin' brain is IBM compatible
Techniques are