I was caught between the years Nearly cost me all my tears With my back turned, looking down the path Hit me like a ton of bricks Had to have my outlook
written by Terry Anderson/ Funzalo Music /BMI Tied down with battleship chain Fifty foot long and a two-ton anchor Tied down with battleship chain Fifty
Sitting on the sofa Suckin' a bowl of crack Thinkin' to myself about My angel dressed in black I know she went out hours ago I hope that she's coming
You're supposed to sit on your ass And nod at stupid things man, that's hard to do And if you don't they'll screw you And if you do, they'll screw you
The phone don't ring, no, no And the sun refused to shine Never thought I'd have to pay so dearly For what was already mine For such a long, long time
I've been lying on a bed of coals I've been crying out of control I roll and I tumble Every time I come down I'm too old to die young And too young to
Please stay, please stay Two words I've never thought I'd learn to say Don't go away, please stay Don't leave me here When so many things So hard to
by Warren Zevon c. 1996 (?) Zevon Music/BMI Who's the Tutsi? Who's the Hutu? Why'd you shoot Kabushemeye? Wish you'd never left the rugo Whatcha doing
Charlie dealt in pharmaceuticals Charlie used to sell me pills Yesterday his sister called to tell me He'd been killed Some respectable doctor from Beverly
I was sitting in the Hollywood Hawaiian hotel I was staring in my empty coffee cup I was thinking that the gypsy wasn't lyin' All the salty Margaritas
Well I know these blues are gonna rub me raw Every single cure seems to be against the law Went and told my psychic I said, "Keep it to yourself I don
written by E. McDaniel, Arc Music Corp. BMI (1980?) Here's a little story that I really want to tell It's about Bo Diddley at the O.K Corral Now,
My baby is a basket case A bipolar mama in leather and lace Face like an angel, she's a perfect waste My baby is a basket case Dracula's daughter, Calamity
I'm a crosscut saw Come on drag me across your log I'm a crosscut saw Come and drag me across your log Well I'll cut your wood so easy for you You gonna
Why stop now? Let's party for the rest of the night Seven o'clock, eight o'clock, nine o'clock, ten You wanna go home? Why? Honey, when? We may never
My baby's sweeter Oh, Lord, she's sweeter Than apple butter, yeah My baby's sweeter You know, she's sweeter Than apple butter She's lonely tonight,
I heard Woodrow Wilson's guns I heard Maria crying Late last night I heard the news That Veracruz was dying Veracruz was dying Someone called Maria's
written by Warren Zevon 1989 Zevon Music BMI Turmoil back in Moscow brought this turbulence down on me Turmoil back in Moscow brought this turbulence