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Search results for 'roadhouse blues by great white'

Yee yee! We've found 126 lyrics, 100 artists, and 100 albums matching roadhouse blues by great white.


Albums:

Livin' in the House of Blues: Roadhouse Blues (Hutchinson, Hutch) · Roadhouse Blues (Hutchinson, Hutch) · Harley Davidson Roadhouse Blues (Hutchinson, Hutch) · Roadhouse Blues (Albert King) · A Celebration of Blues: Great Blues Piano/Great Blues Harp (Hutchinson, Hutch) · White Light White Heat White Trash (Social Distortion) · Great Band With Great Voices/Swing the Great Voices of the Great Bands (Johnny Mann) · Classics from the Roadhouse (Hutchinson, Hutch) · Roadhouse Rules (Lonnie Brooks) · The Roadhouse (Rakaa-Iriscience) – and 90 other albums »


hair's turning white,
My neck's always been red,
My collar's still blue,
We've always been here
Just trying to sing the truth to you.
Yes you could
hair's turning white,
My neck's always been red,
My collar's still blue,
We've always been here
Just trying to sing the truth to you.
Yes you could
hairs turning white
My necks always been red
My collars still blue
We've always been here
Just trying to sing a truth to you
Guess you could say
[Chorus]
My hair's turning white, 
My neck's always been red, 
My collar's still blue, 
We've always been here 
Just trying to sing the truth to you.
hair's turning white, 
My neck's always been red, 
My collar's still blue, 
We've always been here 
Just trying to sing the truth to you.
Yes you
again?
Fate or chance

A beauty
In uncertainty
We fought them
On great white sand

Our shadows reframed memories
We want only to live
Only
butterfly
I want to ride in a great bronze butterfly
I want to see the sun descend in a great big blue Arabian sky

I want to go where white men never go
smilin' down on everything we do

With great big harvest moon
And happy lover's too
While sweethearts promenade 2 by 2
Look at you look at me
We're
place was built for you
Sit by the fire tell me true
Don't blind my eyes turn them blue
And then I'll dry my face on you

Step on, I beg you please
of summer revealing 
All the treasures kept by the blue sea 
And the lonely sound of the ocean
Tide's and moon's poetic link

There's no word that can
leavers
It's gonna be off the hook
But I just wanna lay under
The northern sky with you
Until our lips turn from red to white to blue

Brit summer
And ninety second segments officially produced
And aired again, and again, and again
By the little black and white pawns of the network yes men
Well
Written by bob welch.


I guess you've heard about the bermuda triangle
There's something going on
Nobody seems to know just what it is
The windowpanes open and close, my head's in a spin
Red and blue flashes from cars black and white
Point guns at the rocket for speeding 85

Things start
whitener do --
Does it make blue things white, or make white things blue?
(His blue things are white, and his white things are blue)

My Fastback has
They're red, they're white, they're brown
They get that way underground
There can't be much to do
So now they have blue ones too.

We don't care
saved lives by the hundreds everywhere I went.
I must've brought rest to the restless, fed the hungry too,
I must've done something great to get to have
from the trees
White bars on a blue graph, not exactly flapping in the breeze

Cast upon a great white plaza
Filtered down through architects' maps
high
Washington was my destination
And now, who am I?

I'm the chosen party giver
For the White House clientele
And they know that I deliver
What
known by the name of old Johnny Dhu
Of all the trade's that's going, sure begging is the best
For when a man is tired, he can sit down and rest
He can beg
high
Washington was my destination
And now, who am I?

I'm the chosen party giver
For the White House clientele
And they know that I deliver
What
To Chicago, bringin' the New Orleans groove
And when Satchmo blew, the audience knew

Basil Street blues was the whole house tune
It was music, great to dance
of routine
Scans his dials and smiles
Secure in the beauty of military life

There is no right or wrong
Only tin cans and cordite and white cliffs
They're red, they're white, they're brown
They get that way underground
There can't be much to do
So now they have blue ones too.

We don't care
high
Washington was my destination
And now, who am I?

I'm the chosen party giver
For the White House clientele
And they know that I deliver
What