Austin
She left without leavin' a number
Said she needed to clear her mind
He figured she'd gone back to Austin
'Cause she talked about it all the time
It was almost a year before she called him up
Three rings and an answering machine is what she got
If you're callin' 'bout the car I sold it
If this is Tuesday night I'm bowling
If you've got somethin' to sell, you're wastin' your time, I'm not buyin'
If it's anybody else, wait for the tone,
You know what to do
And P.S. if this is Austin, I still love you
The telephone fell to the counter
She heard but she couldn't believe
What kind of man would hang on that long
What kind of love that must be
She waited three days, and then she tried again
She didn't know what she'd say,
But she heard three rings and then
If it's Friday night I'm at the ballgame
And first thing Saturday, if it don't rain
I'm headed out to the lake
And I'll be gone, all weekend long
But I'll call you back when I get home
On Sunday afternoon
And P.S. If this is Austin, I still love you
Well, this time she left her number
But not another word
Then she waited by the phone on Sunday evenin'
And this is what he heard
If you're callin' 'bout my heart
It's still yours
I should've listened to it a little more
Then it wouldn't have taken me so long to know where I belong
And by the way, boy, this is no machine you're talkin' to
Can't you tell, this is Austin, and I still love you
I still love you I still love you
Похожие новости.
Я Смотрела Вперед
Накрутишь на пальцы мои нервы, Услышишь, как уходит вода. Я стану последней, а ты первым. Неслышно уплывет голова. Ты живи без меня и не надо слов Понимаю, что зря вытекает кровь Я смотрела вперед,я смотрела назад Я
31 (radioedit)
Як мінімум півроку вони пили мою кров Лайно на мене лили з-за усіх кутов Я знаю, що кутів, але я так захотів Я фразеологізми з дня народження копив Я теж хотів, щоб добрим людям
Dust Bowl Dance
The young man stands on the edge of his porch The days were short and the father was gone There was no one in the town and no one in the field This
Люди, Как Птицы
Муз: Натан Сл. Д.Тамбовский Не друзья, не враги - просто чьи-то шаги, Просто чья-то любовь нас закружила с тобой. Кто из нас виноват, может быть листопад, Или просто судьба тому виной? Чувства или мечты, может
Locomotive Breath
(originally by Jethro Tull) In the shuffling madess, of the locomotive breath, Runs the all-time loser, headlong to his death. He feels the piston scraping Steam breaking on his brow Old Charlie stole the handle
