Oh God said to Abraham, "Kill me a son". Abe says, "Man, you must be putting me on". God say, "No". Abe say, "What?". God say, "You can do what you want Abe, but.
Oh God said to Abraham, "Kill me a son". Abe says, "Man, you must be putting me on". God say, "No". Abe say, "What?". God say, "You can do what you want Abe, but.
Oh God said to Abraham, "Kill me a son". Abe says, "Man, you must be putting me on". God say, "No". Abe say, "What?". God say, "You can do what you want Abe, but.
I got this graveyard woman, you know, she keep me hid. Put his soul for mommy, you know, she keep my kid. She's a junkyard angel and she always give me bread, yeah.
Look out across the fields, see me returning. Smoke is in your eyes, you draw a smile. From the fireplace where my letters to you are burning. You've had time to think about it for a while.
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Look out across the fields, see me returning. Smoke is in your eyes, you draw a smile. From the fireplace where my letters to you are burning. You've had time to think about it for a while.
"There must be some way out of here",. said the joker to the thief. "There's too much confusion, I can't get no relief. Businessmen they drink my wine, plowman dig my earth,.
written by Bob Dylan. © W.B. Music (ASCAP). . When you're lost in the rain in Juarez and it's Eastertime too. And your gravity fails and negativity won't pull you through.
It might be the color of the sun cut flat. And covering the crossroads I'm standing at. Or maybe it's the weather or something like that. Cause baby you've been on my mind.
You must leave now, take what you need, you think will last. But whatever you wish to keep, you better grab it fast. Yonder stands your orphan with his gun.
Ramona come closer. Shut softly your watery eyes. The pangs of your sadness. Shall pass as your senses will rise. But the flowers of the city. Thou breath like yet.
(Bob Dylan). . In the time of my confession, in the hour of my deepest need. When the pool of tears beneath my feet flood every newborn seed. There's a dyin' voice within me reaching out somewhere,.
(Bob Dylan). . In the time of my confession, in the hour of my deepest need. When the pool of tears beneath my feet flood every newborn seed. There's a dyin' voice within me reaching out somewhere,.
Clouds so swift, rain won't lift. Gate won't close, railing's froze. Get your mind off wintertime. You ain't goin' nowhere. . Ooee, ride me high. Tomorrow's the day.
Clouds so swift. Rain won't lift. Gate won't close. Railings froze. Get your mind off wintertime. You ain't goin nowhere. Whoo-ee ride me high. Tomorrow's the day.
Clouds so swift, rain won't lift. Gate won't close, railing's froze. Get your mind off wintertime. You ain't goin' nowhere. . Ooee, ride me high. Tomorrow's the day.
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Come gather round people. Wherever you roam. And admit that the waters. Around you have grown. And accept it that soon. You'll be drenched to the bone.
Gypsy gal, the hands of Harlem. Cannot hold you to its heat. Your temperature's too hot for taming. Your flaming feet are burning up the street. . I am homeless, come and take me.