Sky-Bo
Hey, I'm a sky-bo and I see the world from an airplane
That's a hobo that can't get around fast enough on a train
But from an airport to depot the motive for leaving's the same
I'm a sky-bo, that's a new kind of hobo for planes
Hey, I took a flight job in Phoenix
Flyin' some rich folks around
They paid me to do what I love to
And I set 'em back safe on the ground
But Phoenix got old and a hurry
So I sky-roped fancy goodbye
Sit down on the end of the runway
And caught me a jet on the flight
Hey, I'm a sky-bo and I see the world from an airplane
That's a hobo that can't get around fast enough on a train
But from an airport to depot the motive for leaving's the same
I'm a sky-bo and that's a new kind of hobo for planes
I ride the first thing, smokin' the Mar
Ate nothin', leavin' tonight
I'm stuck in this old cage in airport
Came in on the last report flight
I'll dose off where the welcome arrivals
Wake up in a crowd of goodbyes
But I'll hustle my ticket tomorrow
And lose my blues in the sky
Hey, I'm a sky-bo and I see the world from an airplane
That's a hobo that can't get around fast enough on a train
But from a depot or airport the motive for leaving's the same
I'm a sky-bo and that's a new kind of hobo for planes
Похожие новости.
Хмаринки
Хмаринки пливуть за туманами Не залиш мене злій самітності Я маю бути разом з тобов Все просто: ти - моя, а я - твій Я - твій хлопець Свіжий вітер буде в дорогу нам Молоко і
За Здоровый Образ Рэпа
Не забывай свои корни, помни: Есть вещи на порядок выше, слышишь? Можно валить хоть на край света за идеей, По-другому жить и перестать травить детей, И это правильно, и это правильно Больное прошлое должно быть
Mujeres
You know I love women, Mujere loca mujere rica mujere linda mujere latina... Mujere, girls, a mi me encanta la mujere, girls, en la manana la mujere, girl, y por la noche la Mujeres (Girls [x4]) let me
And Buy My Toys
Smiling girls and rosy boys Come and buy my little toys Monkeys made of gingerbread And sugar horses painted red Rich men's children running past Their fathers dressed in hose Golden hair and mud of many
By & By
Don't waste the days when I'm dead and I'm gone Wind up the clocks, ring around, carry on Don't gather flowers, dry your eyes, call your friends For all I sang was a
