Search results for save me by 100 portraits

We've found 239 lyrics, 19 artists, and 100 albums matching save me by 100 portraits:


Albums:

Save The Children, Save Their Lives (Simon Estes) · RAS Portraits (Freddie McGregor) · Portraits (Emmylou Harris) · Portraits on Standards (Stan Kenton) · Piano Portraits (Phineas Newborn, Jr.) · Lifetime Intimate Portraits: Christmas Belles (Hutchinson, Hutch) · Kenton Portraits (Hutchinson, Hutch) · Portraits (Martin Taylor) · Calling All Portraits (Devin Hoff) · Portraits [Bonus Tracks] (The Buckinghams) – and 90 other albums »


highness'
Soft-focused by death, by history

I am the Limner
I make portraits in miniature
These two girls were separated by two hundred years
But still
I've got to sell my soul
Won't you save me once again?
Won't you hear my silent pray?

Slave to a portrait, the king fell in love
"Bring me that
Daddy-O slipped me some cause my breath stank
White gold, but no accounts in Swiss banks
Think tanks once rolled on the city streets
I used to meet your
in two by you, baby, I'm moving through.

There's nothing like a hundred miles between me and trouble in my mind.
There's nothing like a hundred
got you, what more could I ask for?
When I'm feeling lost and outnumbered by a hundred to one
And my nerves have gone
And all I want to do is run for
Yeah through the promise land

Promised Land I picture Porsche's
Basquiat Portraits
Pinky Rings realistic princesses
Heiresses bunch a Kings and Queens
the Nine) (Dog the Nine)
The picture of what he wants to portrait wants me by Hid Spirit to associate
(Dog the Nine) (Dog the Nine)

The warehouse getting
We've paid in hell since Moscow burned
As Cossacks tear us piece by piece
Our dead are strewn a hundred leagues
Though death would be a sweet
Faith, it looks familiar
The walls, drop a portrait of my past
And the hands of God they cry
As every second of the hour goes by
And the wheels kept
We've paid in hell since Moscow burned
As Cossacks tear us piece by piece
Our dead are strewn a hundred leagues
Though death would be a sweet
hurled by an unseen source, two hundred feet, with
frightening force
And a dark mass rising showed to be a giant porpoise
Rising out of the angry sea,
your breath,
Save your breath.
So meet me by the station,
And bring a change of heart,
And smile away the old country as we watch it disappear
swept form cries
Mesmerized
By the taffeta Ley
Or Her hips that held sway
Over all those at bay
Save a mist on the rise
A final blessing to hide
nigga, me too"
what the fuck, I'm callin' your bluff, niggas act like they stopped
makin' guns after they made yours
I'm sponsored by the NRA, DOA rules
You're such a sweet thing
You're such a sweet thing
You're such a sweet thing
You so, you so

Tell me, have you ever been addicted to somebody
than the light
Maybe they're just voices, coming from my mind

A hundred million faces
Enlightened or afraid
What is going to save us
From all
We've paid in hell since Moscow burned
As Cossacks tear us piece by piece
Our dead are strewn a hundred leagues
Though death would be a sweet
hurled by an unseen source, two hundred feet, with
frightening force
And a dark mass rising showed to be a giant porpoise
Rising out of the angry sea,
on the rough set
Debuting hey portrait hard work
Fame ain't about chasing a damn skirt
And if I chase a skirt it'll be my own
And if not let me cast the first
have seen,
Of caverns, where no other man has been
Silurian epoch hosts me as my grave,
My final blow I wave,
A life too late to save

Crystals
her that she's gorgeous
One by one they ask her for her hand

But her mind has slipped away
More than a hundred years
No-one in this century
Can
100 proof liqour

[Njeri]
Ha, I shot the sheriff and the deputy secondly
Threatenin the lives of those who threaten me
Lessenin my chances
Self made
Gotta handle your own
I'mma handle mine

They tried and tell me I don't fit up in this motha fucka
'Cause Rozay been talkin' white he
Have you heard of the ship, called the good Reuben James,
Run by hard fighting men, both of honor and fame,
She flew the stars and stripes for
We've paid in hell since Moscow burned
As Cossacks tear us piece by piece
Our dead are strewn a hundred leagues
Though death would be a sweet