Jane Siberry Lyrics
Jane Siberry Lyrics
"Writers Are A Funny Breed Lyrics"
Headful Of Something Lyrics
We can wear the social fabric Put on the make-up of society We can champion the underdog Be proud that we're not another cog In the Blue Machinery
We can wear the social fabric Put on the make-up of society We can champion the underdog Be proud that we're not another cog In the Blue Machinery
It is very quiet here--so still
I don't live here--I live down the hill
On this winter's afternoon
The distant sun--it slowly swings the room around
This room hangs on a golden chain
Suspended
Frozen
Frozen in time since you went away
Walking through your rooms I though your things
Fitting--thes
action and drama Lyrics
in the late 1990's into the twentieth century the idols, the press darlings are the faceless DJs that's not to say that i'm not, a techno disco lover i ke
e aren't fingers these are wingsin the late 1990's into the twentieth century the idols, the press darlings are the faceless DJs that's not to say that i'm not, a techno disco lover i ke
It says April on your calendar
It's winter now--I wonder where you are
I hope it's warm and sunny--or cold and windy
As long as you're fine
Your house is as tumble-down as mine
Crumpled papers everywhere like mine
This one says "I'll write no more"
That one says
World Inside The Crystal Lyrics
© 1985 Steve Savitsky Am C Beside the world we live in G C Em Apart from day and night
"don't lock the door"© 1985 Steve Savitsky Am C Beside the world we live in G C Em Apart from day and night
Writers are a funny breed
I should know
You said someday when we're pure and high
We won't need to capture and describe
The things we see or don't see
We'll let things be
Let things be
That's when you'd leave
And that is why I had to come today
My mad scribbli
Illinois Lyrics
Dusty day dawning Three hours late Open the curtains And let the rest wait. My mind goes running Three thousand miles east I may miss the harv
g crumpled, crippled, feyDusty day dawning Three hours late Open the curtains And let the rest wait. My mind goes running Three thousand miles east I may miss the harv
Tossing words from ledges that erode
From ledges--I am not a goat
I am not a piece of chalk
I just want to do it right like you
And now I stand here in your house
Everything's so still
I wonder if I'll write again
Or let things be
Writers are a funny breed