Lletres:
Walker Jerry Jeff

Jerry Jeff Walker stumbled up the stairs On his way to the stage With a Martin guitar and a six pack Yeah, and he was the poet of the Lone Star state

Don't you think I know You don't want me anymore How you've turned off to me Like the closing of the door When I search your eyes For a sign that you

Jerry Jeff Walker I'm just sitting here counting my money Wondering why I'm in love with you honey And why everybody is so high strung these days Price

Hello momma I'am callin you to tell you that I'am comin home What shape I'am in I wouldn't dare an try to tell you on the telephone I been gone so long

Tom Waits Yeah, you gassed her up, You're behind the wheel Arm around your sweet one, In your Oldsmobile Barrelin' down the Boulevard, Looking for the

Well, he's eight years old he's got a flour sack cape Tied all around his neck He's climbing up on top of the garage He's figurin? what the heck He screws

The Dutchman's not the kind of man To keep his thumb jammed in a dam That holds his dreams in But that's a secret only Margaret know But when Amsterdam

Yeah a mile around the bend down the Ohio Comin up the river for the Sunday show There's a tuba and a banjo and a steam calliope Sittin on the deck

Yeah, I'm sittin' here, drinkin' again I'm just spendin' some time with my friend Then I know that I should be by your side What am I doin' with our lives