Lyrics:
This rhythm inside
And you made me feel good and feel nice and feel loved
Give me paradise
So shouldn't I realize
You're the highest of the high
out to make it real sweet
Give it up for rock n roll
Give it up for bob
Give it up for how it made you see
Give it up for silver tone
Give it
There's a small cafe on the outskirts of town
I'll be there when the sun goes down
Where the roadside bends
And it twists and turns
Every new
nuts?
My balls are feeling a mighty big now
I might just have to dig down and pull 'em through my britches
It's sheer hustle, I bob, weave, deflate
There was Johnny McEldoo and McGee and me
And a couple of two or three went on the spree one day
We had a bob or two, which we knew how to blew
have made it if it wasn't for that shine
I got sick about the time we crossed that Kansas line
Right or wrong, black or white
Cross the line you're
the module than you'll have to try the slide
It was all cool enough if you had the zazz
The night was still young and it was all we had
I picked her up
Walking away from the ghost arcade
Through the fog on pier
All the faces I know by name
Have gone missing
Empty cars, windows broken
Long
Walkin' To Missouri
Sammy Kaye
Peaked at # 11 in 1952
Words and music by Bob Merrill, 1952
Poor little robin walkin', walkin', WALKIN'
or the bars
To bob your head and nod
I recall, so many never ever thought you'd make it
So sad they were mistaken
The joy they tried to take it
Mama said
There was Johnny McEldoo and McGee and me
And a couple of two or three went on the spree one day
We had a bob or two, which we knew how to blew
the hand of a preacher man and we made love in the sun
But I ran out of places and friendly faces because I had to be free
I've been to paradise, but I
old back room
He'd bob his head and say, "Damn, oh, that's you?"
But by The Black Album, I was blackin' out
Party at S.O.B.'s and we had packed
somewhere for me
Now we've made it all right together I guess but so
far our road's been all up hill
But every night oh Lord we pray please help us find
old back room
He'd bob his head and say, "Damn, oh, that's you?"
But by The Black Album, I was blackin' out
Party at S.O.B.'s and we had packed
the hand of a preacher man and we made love in the sun
But I ran out of places and friendly faces because I had to be free
I've been to paradise, but I
the hand of a preacher man and we made love in the sun
But I ran out of places and friendly faces because I had to be free
I've been to paradise, but I
And
Expressing
Our creation
Our creation
Of love
So when I have dinner
With my family
And then feel itchy
And scratch that itch
By engaging in phone sex
Or by
no
Still struggling on, by herself
Got a picture of Jimmy
There on the shelf
And she looks at him and says
Why did we let it go
I know that
all we have made!
We bring destruction
We bring war without an end
And then we live in hope
That tomorrow never comes
That it never comes
We conquer
slipped
The Mac is cuttin records and punks are gettin ripped
Gangster I am, bust the lyrics like a drive-by
You wanna sleep? Well, it's lights out,
owe you thanks now for everything
Remembering you got me so inspired
Felt so lonely when I passed your gate
Round the corner, by then it's too late
country singers beefin' over some guitar
Riff that Willie Nelson lifted from Bob Seeger
When I was younger I was so eager
To have a gun I would do
first, Mickey Hard Man Evans. Game on!
COMMENTATOR 1:
It is going to be a very tricky game for von Hassel; he has been working hard, but unfortunately
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