Lyrics:
an yippee ki yo
Two Shillelagh O'Sullivan
He'd give any man a go.
(Har the shillelagh.
You know we call it the Tipperary rifle.
You never have
an yippee ki yo
Two Shillelagh O'Sullivan
He'd give any man a go.
(Har the shillelagh.
You know we call it the Tipperary rifle.
You never have
ki yo
Two Shillelagh O'Sullivan
He'd give any man a go.
Har the shillelagh.
You know we call it the Tipperary rifle.
You never have to reload
in flames
And why are you at my door
What more could you possibly want
I gave you my heart and my mind
And you left it
For Kathryn
For Kathryn
I hate
and pray for them
Let me begin with Alex Sullivan
What a hope in him
What little I have read, his speakin' seemed to be slim
But his heart, big and strong
My name is Jessie Sullivan, I live up over the hill
I ain't taking shit from no man, I guess I never will
I'll kick your ass and I'll beat you down
It's not hard to reach back to the day
Underneath an Iowa sun.
Running to the tower of waterloo, looking
For the sullivan train to come.
His five
a rider yea, she keep it real so I'm beside her yea.
D. Sullivan
www.dsullivanmusic.com
2017 IAR Entertainment
gambade
Et ce bâtard fait des grands pas, grands pas
Le Père Noël vend d'la dope et fait rarement cadeau
Gros, y'a tes parents, c'est bien marrant mais
Kathryn's favourite Tor on Dartmoor. A place of contemplative solace.
When we finally ceased our talking
We listened to the silence that is not true
THOSE EYES –
Written by Kathryn Shipley & Gar Francis
Vocals: Kathryn Shipley
Verse 1-
I saw him standing there, he shot me a glance
Captivating
"What can I get you darling" says Kathryn from the bar
A pint of Dog & Parrot, and some crisps for the rock star
A friendly face to greet you, from
My money too big for a shoebox
Thirty round cock on my Glock
I put the D on the block like the LOX (skrrt)
Yeah, I'm drippin', I need me a mop
resonate in my soul
If my cheeks were bass guitars
Would you slap them til I cry
The bassline that you played was so dry
Oh you've got a gun
Oh I'd better
J'crèche dans un ancien putain d'hôtel de passe
Wech! Roule toujours avec Lex et le putain de Glaz
Rek! Missile à longue portée c'est le cocktail de
des textes
J'dépasse ce con de Kant
Enfoiré d'salope sale pute minable
Flow monstrueux comme Sullivan
Tes MCs j'les vois en bizarre
Comme les vestiaires
brick house
Up on the hill
Next to the mean old neighbor
And an empty field
Where I'd look up at clouds rolling by
On Greenwood Drive
Whatever happened
VERSE 1
Model citizen, I've never even jaywalked
And if my job we're given 'em I'd never need a day off
And I don't have to dream of ever being paid
yeah, it's parked out front
But homecoming used to be a sweet affair
I'd be swimming to the arms of a lover there,
Today there doesn't seem to be a niche
Now, if I may digress momentarily from the mainstream of
this evening's symposium, I'd like to sing a song which is
completely pointless, but is
can you spare some change
Just a couple dollars and he'll be out on his way
Once upon a time there was a soldier named Sullivan
Joined the forces, but
she'd always give me gifts for Chanukkah
to met her folks she'd try and make me rock a yarmulke
but she looked so damn good
she almost made my ass
recover
I'm tired of relationships that put me down under
I ain't apologize in person 'cause I'd cry and you'd be cursin'
But I've mustered up the courage
We used to get crazy ev'ry Saturday night
We'd drive into town and get feelin' right
A child of the sixties in seventy four
But I'm not that way
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