Hotel Song
Sunday night, its supper time, the hotel's full and all is fine.
You can see that No Vacancy sign from the window of room 39
Monday morning at half past eight, everybody's gone, they left no trace.
I sit alone as the day grows late, wait to see your friendly face
Why you chose my hotel I'm not real qualified to tell,
it's just your face I remember well,
when you asked if I had a room to sell
Maybe you liked just what you saw,
the cable TV and the indoor spa or maybe it was the low low price twenty-seven
bucks a night
Say the highway is for lovers, but he ain't no friend of mine
because every time I find my heart, I lose it to that long yellow line
You checked in, I checked you out, you smiled from the corners of your mouth
I turned on the no-vacancy sign as you checked in to room 39
I saw the light from your TV, you were watching channel 23
the night was long, the dark was deep, I kinda cried myself to sleep
Say the highway is for lovers, but he ain't no friend of mine
because every time I find my heart, I lose it to that long yellow line
Morning broke itself at last, you got your continental breakfast
dropped off the key and said goodbye, I think I thought I heard you sigh
I caught a glimpse of your licence plate, you were drifting down the innerstate
It said you were from Delaware, I said oh it must be gorgeous there
Похожие новости.
Купи-продай
Муз: О.Молчанов Сл. А.Славоросов Вот беда, господа, вам без денег ни куда, Ну, а я получу даром всё, что захочу. Весь-то мой капитал - одинокая слеза, Сердце ты мне отдал за красивые глаза. Кругом
Про Модных Девчонок И Немодных Ребят (feat. Серега)
Когда девчонкой несмышленой я еще была, Когда с парнями не встречалась, не знакомилась, Мечтала я еще тогда за школьной партою Об ухажере с золотой кредитной картою, Чтоб был похож немного на Куценко Гошу он И
I Can’t Be Myself
I CAN'T BE MYSELF (Merle Haggard) « © '71 Tree Publishing, BMI » It's a way of mine to say just what I'm thinking And to do the things I really want to do And
Когда Я Пишу
Задремал в ночи месяц блестящий, Телефон молчит, пуст почтовый ящик Спят хит-парады, спят в песнях строчки Спят реализаторы, на пиратских точках Звёзды сладко спят, мерцая глянцем Спят директора каналов и радиостанций, Спят продюсеры, лишь шумит подобно
Gold
Twilight in my Eye, then I can see for seven million miles Twilight in my eye tonight Dreams become clear, the fog gets thicker every time I inhale Stars look the same to