Search results for prison song by crosby stills nash

We've found 59 lyrics, 85 artists, and 100 albums matching prison song by crosby stills nash:


Albums:

Crosby, Stills & Nash (Crosby, Stills & Nash) · Crosby, Stills & Nash (Crosby, Stills & Nash) · Crosby, Stills & Nash [Expanded Edition] (Crosby, Stills & Nash) · Crosby, Stills & Nash (Crosby, Stills & Nash) · Crosby, Stills & Nash (Crosby, Stills & Nash) · Still Stills: The Best of Stephen Stills (Stephen Stills) · Stills/Illegal Stills/Thoroughfare Gap (Stephen Stills) · Graham Nash/David Crosby (David Crosby) · Crosby & Nash (Graham Nash) · Graham Nash/David Crosby (Graham Nash) – and 90 other albums »


Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young, Crosby
Stills, Nash, and Young, Crosby, Stills, Nash, and
Young, Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young, Cros-
-By, Stills
of a man.
Yeah?
Picture this if you can
Okay, I'll try...
Bead jobs
Knotted nylons
Bamboo canes
Three unreleased recordings of crosby, stills, nash & young
wrong
If you learn to croon this happy tune
They call it Sam's song

"And now another treatment of this
Classic American Theme
Brought to you by
wrong
If you learn to croon this happy tune
They call it Sam's song

"And now another treatment of this
Classic American Theme
Brought to you by
as the last bar closes
The song that Crosby sings
These foolish things remind me of you
How strange how sweet to find you still
These things are dear to me
as the last bar closes
The song that Crosby sings
These foolish things remind me of you
How strange how sweet to find you still
These things are dear to me
a prison
And whose liberty rests upon me.
But I can't find the key.
You may never be free.

The servants still hang on his every word,
But his
The patriot's dream still lives on today
It makes mothers weep and it makes lovers pray
Let's drink to the men who got caught by the chill
Of the patriotic
used to be you made a brand new me.

You found the love I lost somewhere deep inside my soul
In prison by the darkness left to die out in the cold
recordings of Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young fighting in the dressing-room of the Fillmore East! Why, 'n enchilada wrapped with pickle sauce shook up and down
We, we are the champions, we can't stop
Cause you just can't keep them
Ruff Ryders down, down, down

By any means necessary, I'mma hold down
This song goes out to all the money men

He drives around in a fancy car
Smokes those long Cuban cigars
He don't know how to play guitar
He
my home,
But some Monday morning no country song
Will sing me home again

And Suzy says she's up there
Cutting carrots still
And Suzy says she's
measure her bittersweet tears.

Every note of each song brings a vision
Of love and of pain back to me,
Like a captive I've locked in a prison
And whose
a person's soul
So I sing a song everywhere I go
But It's not much different than before
I'm still looking for the door
I wonder if there is one,
On this
the widow with her loss
True commitment takes the orphans pain because
Bridges broken their souls pourin' out oh why
Our days are numbered by and still we
Arrested - beaten black and blue
Confession - beaten out of you
You didn't do it - but you still get the cell
In prison - institiutionalised hell
to get wit 'em
Me nah go jail and me nah go prison
(Take it to his face kid, dis him!)
Can't stop, won't stop selling mad izm
All competition I gots to get
the alleyway
A wad of cash in my pants
I get paid by a ten year old
He says he looks up to me
There's still crime in the city
But it's good to be free

Now I
And we don't have a song
If we could get these things accomplished
Nothin' else could go wrong.
So he balanced the ashtray
As he picked up the phone
Jamaican songs
Both of them are black men, but they still can't get along

Wussup wit the love, wussup wit the love?
Wussup wit the love, wussup wit
African, one sings Jamaican songs
Both of them are black men, but they still can't get along

Wussup wit the love, wussup wit the love?
Wussup wit
hands up in the air like a drone
Yeah, now hold 'em over your head like your home got invaded by the feds

Sing a song we will recite
Worked so long
And we don't have a song
If we could get these things accomplished
Nothin' else could go wrong
So he balanced the ashtray
As he picked up the phone
and beatles and a couple of others,
I do some original songs too but they're not as well received...
"Christ is god, christ is god"

But I still want that