Perskele!. Humppatappelu. ma ja joku muu. rysk risukko. ja puu kaatuu. puku ruttaantuu. silm mustuu. rusto rutajaa. ja lahje tutajaa. Alma katsoo vaan kun miest.
(2:47). I'm feelin' so lonely. and I'm thinkin' of you. thinkin' of you. You said you'd never break my heart. and I'm broken in two. Take the big clock away, the hands of time.
Maybe right now, this is the best that you've found - to live a life that's tearing you down day by day. Maybe right now, you can't seem to find a way out and you're afraid to trust in the sound of your own voice, so listen....
Lightning spoke to the wind, "The devil's in me today, my friend. Do you see that old oak tree down yonder?. Blow like hell and bring down thunder. When your raging's through, I'll cut that oak in two".
I think the last time that I saw him was. West of the border where the trees are black and. Blue is not the colour of the sky. . Hands buried deep in the pockets of his jeans.
Robin. The hooded man. . Robin. The hooded man. Robin. The hooded man. . Robin. The hooded man. Robin. The hooded man.
Poirtn shein a tsoda. As rince philib a'cheoil. Dansa domhsa rince. Is seinnfidh mise an ceol. . Crf. ó s bhean nach deas. ó s bhean nach seoigh. ó s bhean nach deas.
Ri na cruinne. Ta na daoine ag milleadh. An chine daonna. Nil muid curamach go leor. . (a) ri na cruinne. Ta'n duira scriosadh. O bhliain go bliain. Nil muid faichilleach go leor.
Zurli trestat nasred selo. Tapancuka rum dum dum. Mladi momi I ergeni. Do dve ora vijat. Rum dum dum du, rum dum dum du. Rum dum dum du, rum dum du. Ozdol ide star bel dedo zasukal mustaki.
Rolling over the highway. Chris Foster. February 5, 2003. . Rolling over the highway Got the wind in my hair. While the sun is shining brightly down upon my face.
Rose hips lady. Your field is ripe. Bury my torn body. In that rain-soaked night. . Taste those sweet confessions. On your baby breath. Lift this wounded flag.
Verse 1. I am the rain too cool. Late in the evening. I am the morning blue. Before birds sing. . Hot in the afternoon. When I've nothing left. When I'm tempted to.
I was born in the path of the winter wind. I was raised where the mountains are old. Their springtime waters came dancing down. And I remember the tales they told.
I was lookin' back on faded dreams from yesterday. Like a brush from my past. They painted the evenin' sky. . But they couldn't hold on, the current's so strong.
I was holding on to my granddad's hand. He was pointing to the promised land. And that lay beyond the Reservation Road. He said, "Don't make a promises that you won't keep.
With the wings of sorrow, I have taken flight. Cloaked in the darkness like a thief in the night. I have watched the farmer planting in his field. And known that what he sows, is there for me to steal.