Lyrics:
here in your mergin lane
Jockey La Fayette, Big Eyed Al
She's a cheap motel with a burned out sign
She'll take care of you definitely every time
is just the prologue
Swear to shake it up if you swear to listen
Oh, we're still so young, desperate for attention
I aim to be your eyes, trophy
is just the prologue
Swear to shake it up if you swear to listen
Oh, we're still so young, desperate for attention
I aim to be your eyes, trophy
an uncle of Wayne's
We drove eight hundred miles without seeing a cop
We got rock and roll music blasting off the T-top
Singing
Sha la la
Sha la la la
Tune me in to the wild side of life
I'm an innocent young child sharp as a knife
Take me to the garretts where the artists have died
Show me
Young, young-young
My daddy from New Orleans
Young, young-young
My mama from L.A.
Young, young-young
Shoutout to my sister Reginae
Young Kam
OUT FAYETTE
come home, pass the time no longer steal or borrow leave the young fruit on the vine if there’s a highest point to climb I’m gonna
Tune me in to the wild side of life
I'm an innocent young child sharp as a knife
Take me to the garretts where the artists have died
Show me
heads around
Go underground, young men
People make the world go 'round (people make the world go 'round)
('Round and 'round and 'round)
La
heads around
Go underground, young men
People make the world go 'round (people make the world go 'round)
('Round and 'round and 'round)
La
an uncle of Wayne's
We drove eight hundred miles without seeing a cop
We got rock and roll music blasting off the T-top
Singing
Sha la la
Sha la la la
Like soldiers in the winter's night
With a vow to defend
No retreat, baby, no surrender
Well, now young faces grow sad and old
And hearts of fire
the good that I did was for nothing (ah)
All the good that I did was for nothing
Why don't I just let it be?
I'm thankful to young lovers
New York
there
I'm becoming old enough to wonder
Happy that I'm still too young to care
Masterpieces crumble, empires tumble down
Refugees and fantasies go
From ? the young
Or the old,
When I'm high,
When I'm low,
When I'm fast,
When I'm slow,
I shall sing.
La la la la la la la la la
La la la la la
A rare co write collaboration by Paul with the young ace budding artist / songwriter Alex Johnston Collier
I can't believe what I found in daddy's
Sock drawer, sock drawer today
It was a pistol, a Smith & Wesson
Holy, holy shit
La-la-la-la-la
Like soldiers in the winter's night
With a vow to defend
No retreat, baby, no surrender
Well, now young faces grow sad and old
And hearts of fire
Is it wrong to want to live on your own?
No, it's not wrong, but I must know
How can someone so young
Sing words so sad?
Sheila take a, Sheila take
j'suis un Barksdale
Mais dans l'business ils sont morts
Donc RIP les maisons vaut mieux éviter
Le cimetière de Marlo everyday
Fayette Mafia, à la vie
À la
la la la
La la la la la la la la la
With my heart
With my soul
When I'm young
When I'm old
When I'm high
When I'm low
When I'm fast
When I'm
La lalalala la lalalala la lalalala la
I remember when rock was young
Me and Suzie had so much fun
Holding hands and skimming stones
Had an old
artist has
And on a clear day you can see Alcatraz
You can learn a lot from Lydia
La la la la la la
La la la la la la
Come along and see Buffalo
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