Lyrics:
There are no lyrics to this track. It is intentionally blank, with each of the 71 seconds representing one of the years that the artist's father,
Written by Warren Zevon 1970 United Artists/ c. 1996 EMI Capitol Records Special Markets
Jungle telephone
Ding a dong ding ding _____ with a red mud
funky rhythms all the while
And this song is for the homies who was down with me
When I was broke as a joke, flat with no mon-ey
And to them
Who designed the snowflake
Who made the planet spin
Who came up with new born babies skin
Who created seasons
The cycle of rebirth
Who
Divide ending with guys collide, brute agenda
I fight all you clowns
Goodnight strike then you all fall down
P!
Real artists
Fake artists
Hot
values
When you associate with secular artists in the R&B hip-hop world
Here he comes
I cannot believe the controversy shrowding this man
Mr.
disarmed
Oh, oh, yeah, the beautiful gent
You know he has hardly a cent
He pays his monthly rent
With the daily charm
Hands off the man
Flim flam man
The illest
飲み干せ just like ディオニュソス
片手に酒 もう片手にテュルソス
透明なクリスタルグラス中 揺れる芸術
芸術も酒 飲めば酔うぜ fool
You dunno, you dunno, you dunno
What to do with
I'ma show you 別の
who paints with his eyes
I'd study my subject and silently cry
Cry for the darkness to come down on me
For confusion to carry on turning the wheel
who paints with his eyes
I'd study my subject and silently cry
Cry for the darkness to come down on me
For confusion to carry on turning the wheel
All alone, or in two's
The ones who really love you
Walk up and down outside the wall
Some hand in hand
And some gathered together in bands
By Warren Zevon
C. 1970, United Artists Inc./Mr. Bones Music/BMI (1969?)/c. 1996 EMI-Capital Music Special Markets
My baby's sweeter
Lord, she's
All alone, or in two's
The ones who really love you
Walk up and down outside the wall
Some hand in hand
And some gathered together in bands
I’m gonna move to San Francisco
And watch all the hip young
Artists struggle with their rent
Ooh I’m gonna be one of them
I’m gonna find a pale
What money got to do with it
When I don't know the full definition of a rap image?
I'm trapped inside the ghetto and I ain't proud to admit it
(uh-huh)
What's love got to do, got to do with it
If you lack in this game, it's a shame you won't make it
Now, I'm the type of brother that's down for
pull up to his mansion alone
And don't come in with all that gun play
Your artists be taking my swag
I wonder if I could come take some of yours
She's got everything she needs, she's an artist
She don't look back
She's got everything she needs, she's an artist
She don't look back
She can
She's got everything she needs, she's an artist
She don't look back
She's got everything she needs, she's an artist
She don't look back
She can
She's got everything she needs, she's an artist
She don't look back
She's got everything she needs, she's an artist
She don't look back
She can
Written by Warren Zevon, c. 1970 United Artists, c. 1996 EMI Capital Music Special Markets
I was born down in Corpus Christi
With a dram glass in my
the passion and the saving grace
I slept one rainy night with you in Paris
Made up for a thousand wasted years
Dearest Esmeralda, you are magic
I close
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