Search results for 'where did my snowman go by patti page'
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The Uncollected Patti Page (1949): Patti Page With Lou Stein's Music (Patti Page) · Only the Best of Patti Page (Patti Page) · Patti Page's Golden Hits, Vol. 2 (Patti Page) · Patti Page: My Christmas (Patti Page) · Sensational Patti Page (Patti Page) · Christmas with Patti Page (Patti Page) · Christmas with Patti Page (Patti Page) · The Very Best of Patti Page (Patti Page) · Christmas with Patti Page [Deluxe Edition] (Patti Page) · The Very Best of Patti Page (Patti Page) – and 90 other albums »
you in my life ever more (Come on!) [Chorus: Patti LaBelle] I know it cannot happen without you, you you, without you, oh, oh oh oh Without you
the news today Did you read the morning paper Isn't the picture very clear Where do we go from here Did you read the morning paper Did you see
We're hoping it gets better. Where's the snowman you're always building with your friends? This world is heating up like ember. I want to see it all
This is my diary of broken dreams, A monument over me, Page after page twists my mind with grief What I should but never did, How could I
Did I catch my breath and slow down To a walk and then to rest Front page news Headline story Front page news Headline story Well I
your wrist at? I can kill you in four bars, that's a Kit Kat Did the Lambo my way with a sick wrap Smooth as Frank Sinatra with a motherfucking slick
Did we leave it for tomorrow Find new rooms behind closed doors Shouldn't go there so soon Said goodbye to fading summer And by that last walk
might be here waiting It was time to go and so you did So you did Oh, come see why I've fallen And where I've come back from And stay to understand my
of my childhood games With kids nearly grown and gone Grown so fast Like the turn of a page We look like our mothers did now When we were those kids'
and gone Grown so fast Like the turn of a page We look like our mothers did now When we were those kids' age Nothing lasts for long Nothing lasts for long
between the pages of my heart In the fields where are you? Are you hiding yourself there still? Oh in the fields where are you? Are you hiding
down to you and me Is it everything you want it to be I wanted you all along So where did we go wrong? Never had a lot of money But we spent
Probably should have called to warn you. But I'm stopping by. I'm stopping by, Daddy. How did your life turn out? Do you ever think about a teenage
And standing by the ruined gate Just for the fish to catch their bate And then my love to dark tunnel we shall go Where are my little slaves and why are
get the music of my mind And I couldn't leave the needing you behind Read the word from the page Free the bird from the cage Just go out there
the page And I feel the ground beneath me give Close around my eyes and I am sleepy where in my life did this begin What happens now If I admit I'm tempted
this, oh yeah, And knew that I mean it. I did. Yeah I could fill every page with all my ways That I tried to understand. Wished things could be
I'm on the right page but what's my format I wave to the ocean cause I'm where shores at And women go nuts just like my bozack Did you know that?
And from now, there is no other Started as friends, but now my heart says different All week and all day long we kick it How did we go from there to here?
Tyrese let's go She's playin' with my heart She's playin' all this games Stayin' in my mind Drivin' me insane I just wanna fly far away from
, I've had enough Rise above I can't change what I've done So leave the past where it lays I'll get through this I've clinched my fist and I'll find
Back in the form of mist You wishin' you did the Knowledge before speakin' Seekin', where you went wrong And why would I bring you such physical harm?
to retrieve seven digits But I promised I would call you when I got home But, when I got home I never did By the time I did, heard that you had a kid By some
You can tell by the way I walk, the way I flow from around here Nigga Midwest where the weed ain't the best but we came up Now we get flew from
in my thoughts The DA is the clean page; the judge is a ink spot Right where I think plots Below the thinkers is the hung jury It comes to me,