Search results for weep not for the dead by peter rowan

We've found 65 lyrics, 100 artists, and 100 albums matching weep not for the dead by peter rowan:


Albums:

För Sent För Edelweiss (Håkan Hellström) · Peter Rowan (Peter Rowan) · Peter Rowan with the Red Hot Pickers (Peter Rowan) · Peter Rowan (Peter Rowan) · Rowan & Wild Stallions (Peter Rowan & the Wild Stallions) · Live För Dig (Lars Winnerbäck) · Ett Slag För Dig (Tomas Andersson Wij) · Känn Ingen Sorg för Mig Göteborg (Håkan Hellström) · Jag Är Inte Rädd För Mörkret (Kent) · Ett Slag För Dig (Tomas Andersson Wij) – and 90 other albums »


Poplar's gift to the souls of the dead
A promise that it was not the end
But for the vine the "U", its coffer

Vowels and consonants
The power of trees
Don't weep
He's not asleep
Je-hovah
He's not dead

(ohh ohh ohh ohh)
Don't cry
wipe your eyes
He's not dead
up where's the tomb?
Will Easter come, enter my room?
The Lord weeps with me
But my tears fall for you.
Another Beauty
Loved by a Beast
Another tale
ever heard in your life. 
I'm talking about the kind of song where not only is the character in the song dead by the end of the song, but he's been
muh'fucker at
Everywhere we have on repeat
The jailhouse, Saint Peter, right street
Part of there where dude by the Duvall
Man the fuck up, perservere
la;Sing toora loora loora la, give the child a
jar of porter When I am dead and in my grave, I hope
for me a prayer you'll sayAnd as you're passing
by
enter my room?
The lord weeps with me
But my tears fall for you

Another beauty
Loved by a beast
Another tale of infinite dreams
Your eyes they
la, toora loora loora la;

Sing toora loora loora la, give the child a jar of
Porter

When I am dead and in my grave, I hope for me a prayer
toora loora loora la;
Sing toora loora loora la, give the child a jar of porter 

When I am dead and in my grave, I hope for me a prayer you'll say
gun 

500 000 is not half of one 

Caught the keys akisane for 63 hundred on sale I ordere for Bronx niggas 

If you want it  I'll head up with
they'll still talk about us when we've died.

JESUS

The end...is just a little harder, when brought about by friends.
For all you care, this wine
the Gospels,
So they'll still talk about us when we've died.

JESUS

The end...is just a little harder, when brought about by friends.
For all you care,
Frightened by the tone of a phone in the dead of night
Then staring into darkness and praying till the morning light
The price already paid
A son
Frightened by the tone of a phone in the dead of night
Then staring into darkness and praying till the morning light
The price already paid
A son
Um lampin', um lampin', um cole cole lampin'
I got loowies boy, um not trampin
I just came from da-crib ya know
Um on da go-throw ya tank into metro
a crack dealer by the name of peter
Had to buck him down with my 9 millimeter
He said I had his girl, I said "now what are you? stupid?"
But he tried
Um lampin', um lampin', um cole cole lampin'
I got loowies boy, um not trampin
I just came from da-crib ya know
Um on da go-throw ya tank into
Um lampin', um lampin', um cole cole lampin'
I got loowies boy, um not trampin
I just came from da-crib ya know
Um on da go-throw ya tank into
of yours won't fall another time.
Don't cry Lilly 
We know how you've tried
Fighting for your life was not a crime.

One night Lily turned to him
be told
The veil of hypocrisy is taking out its toll
Lie in your deception and before your god you weep
Ridden to a life of pain for all you have
a name

He's ready to fight
But not to fuss
Cornelius

He isn't a wuss
He never was
Cornelius

Music by Peter Furler / Lyrics by Steve Taylor
and hurt tonight
And they crown her Queen of the Dead.

Raven, on and on with her raven claws
Raping, on and on with her raven claws

Will she weep for
told?
A preachers illusion, a dead man's word

Blinded vision, future divided, masses in ave
Salvation for the accused

"Come to me my children, let
faucets that weep
Hot tears splash against the shower floor
And I stand in the steam as if inside a dream

I can see her again by the sink
From behind
For whom the gun tolls
For whom the prey weeps
Bow before a war
Call it religion

Some wounds never heal
Some tears never will
Dry for the unkind
Cry