BIC RUNGA lyrics - Drive

Sorry

Original and similar lyrics
Wring out my guilt and hang it on the line It's been raining all week It won't get a chance to dry I've been looking around the pantry for a box of Sorries I'm all run out yeah I'm all run out Its not that hard to say I know Its not that hard to say I know Its not that hard to say so why can't I say it now And its been swelling up inside like the kitchen Sponge It's in the back of my throat It's in the tip of my tongue If I could sweep it out the door That could be the end But this wind keeps blowing it in again It's not that hard to say I know It's not that hard to say I know It's not that hard to say so why can't I say it now Say it now Say it now Say it now Say it now Say it now Say it now And I've been locking all the doors and drawing all the blinds It always seems to find its way back inside If I could sweep it out the door that could be the end But this wind keeps blowing it in again So why can't I say it now Say it now Say it now Say it now Say it now Say it now Say it now

House Of Cards

Carpenter Mary-Chapin "Stones In The Road"
I grew up in a house like this You knew the groan of every stair All the walls seemed to listen in All the years seemed to take up air And when you dreamed it was of the wind blowing cold and hard And in those dreams you thought you lived in a house of cards And i grew up in a town like this You knew the names of every street On the surface it looked so safe But it was perilous underneath That's the place where you shoved your doubts and hid your ugly scars God forbid if word got out about your house of cards And now I feel the wind about to blow Baby I'm so scared We're repeating the past instead of letting it go And I don't want to go back there Now we're standing here face to face Afraid to move or else I want to prop up this fragile place But I can't do it all by myself Cause when we dream it's of the wind blowing cold and hard And when we wake up we still live in a house of cards When we dream it's of the wind blowing cold and hard And when we wake up we still live in a house of cards

Western Star

Black Frank "Pistolero"
sun she burns mean and big i think i'll go to Cafe Noir big screen turns me on i'm gonna be your western star how hard can it be? i get my freon bingo inside your cool soft sarong rolling on the moquette inside a cul-de-sac kampong how hard can it be? how hard can it be when you're a western star? shining and free don't you know that a star burns best? how hard can it be? i said now how hard can it be? she's so sentimental she's got my picture in her head the tool-man is in her dreams i was lifted when she said how hard can it be? and now he's headed skyward standing up on piles of plywood and all he thinks about is how he looks like Heroes-period Bowie and his figure blocks the light and he takes away the night and he's dancing to the new bolero you soy un pistolero i'm not shakin' in my boots i'm ruler of this moon boy so if you move i shoots how hard can it be?

Man

ELTON JOHN "Made In England"
Man stands in all his glory Sitting at the crossroads of the same old story Man got his make-up, wears it like a mask Hides inside a child, lives inside a glass Man breathes his own deceit Man worships his own defeat Oh I'm a man, I know what it feels like I'm a man, working on the living part of life You see through me, I understand But don't lose hope if you can Have a little faith in man Shakespeare's men got all the lines Modern man lives back in time Man got bravado in his big steel hands Runs with the wolf, sleeps with the lamb Man falls, cuts and bleeds Man stumbles on his own belief He's the hoax behind the thrill The poison arrow, the bitter pill Hard to swallow, hard to kill, hard to understand He's the light behind the hill The broken promise, the iron will Hard to kill, hard to understand

Taste Of Pastry

Cuban Link
Sing! All u gotta do is sing! (Ooo ooo oh) Micheal Jackson..who could sing! But he ain't the most masculine fella in the world.. (You're my pretty lady, baby yeah) [Chorus 2x] Baby..you're my favorite lady You make me go so crazy For that taste of pastry [Verse 1 - Cuban Link] Baby u makin me crazy The way u shake ya waist got me hasty To get face-to-face and jus taste the pastry Lately, u been waitin for that tongue massage A one-on-one under the stars in my summer lodge Pardon ma, but from the start I was guilty as charged We was gods wit no regards jus strictly menage-es-trois At the bar puffin Cuban cigars playin my part As a deeper heart wit the streets smarts to read ya thoughts But its hard cuz ur different, ur far from a pigeon u my princess The vision which got me switchin religions It's tradition, u even hit the kitchens witout bitchin Theres nuttin missin, u perfect like Roger Clemen's picture So ya wish is my command, give u kisses on ya hand Takin trips to foreign lands, can't no competition stand Here's the plan, we can skip to Cancun Now who da man? Catch a tan, while we bangin bodies on the sand, understand [Chorus 2x] [Verse 2 - Triple Seis] Yo it's a dream, ask more why she don't go for beams? Baggin heavy, so she ready for dat loco team Ya man Queens a ho, after-show From the trizz spendin all her dough thats how it goes Don't ya know, profession a true thug Who will eat the choch, beat the choch and leave u wit a new buzz If u cuz my squad is reppin, its hard to check em You makin it hard thats why the god is sweatin Wanna taste u, lace u and embrace u Lemme show u how Triple Seis do A lil tongue lashin, make u cum laughin Pick up ya thong cuz its on in the Bronx fashion Think I'm cute? Wait 'til I finish the chooch So smashable, start gassin u for my TS crew So where my east coast riders at? (what what) So where my west coast riders at? (yeah yeay) [Chorus 2x] [Verse 3 - Prospect] Shorty I'm right here, I be the thug that u lookin for Prospect and u kno I'm baggin it raw Gimme one minute and watch her pants sag to the floor You kno wat happened before, in the back of the door Its hard to tell wen we type wildin those Security tapped the door, we on silent mode Musta been too much excitement for us to contain People heard us next door tryin to fuss and get played Mad cuz they wasnt crushin the same, doin it up I'd still cock back and bust two in the gut They call million-plex shit, had me lovin the sexin Left the room and ya tear usin the Lexus Flags over the shoulders either way I see textures And gestures, got me comin back for extras [Chorus 4x] (Take off yo clothes, meet me in the bathtub, I wanna taste yo lovin)

Fly On A Windshield

GENESIS "The Lamb Lies Down On Broadway"
The sky is overcast and as Rael looks back a dark cloud is descending like a balloon into Times Square. It rests on the ground and shapes itself into a hard edged flat surface, which solidifies and extends itself all the way East and West along 47th Street and reaching up to the dark sky. As the wall takes up its tension it becomes a screen showing what had existed in three dimensions, on the other side just a moment before. The image flickers and then cracks like painted clay and the wall silently moves forward, absorbing everything in its path. The unsuspecting New Yorkers are apparently blind to what is going on. There's something solid forming in the air, And the wall of death is lowered in Times Square. No-one seems to care, They carry on as if nothing was there. Rael starts to run away towards Columbus Circle. Each time he dares to take a look, the wall has moved another block. At the moment when he thinks he's maintaining his distance from the wall, the wind blows hard and cold slowing down his speed. The wind increases, dries the wet street and picks up the dust off the surface, throwing it into Rael's face. More and more dirt is blown up and it begins to settle on Rael's skin and clothes, making a solid layered coat that brings him gradually to a terrified stillness. A sitting duck. The wind is blowing harder now, Blowing dust into my eyes. The dust settles on my skin, Making a crust I cannot move in And I'm hovering like a fly, waiting for the windshield on the freeway.

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