Samuel, I'm sorry that he sunk his teeth into your back I'm sure we'll find it too Breath out So we can slow down all the bleeding from your skin And
Übersetzung: Kris Kristofferson. Sams Song.
Übersetzung: Unbekannt. Uncle Sams Farm.
Übersetzung: Unbekannt. Sams Gone Away.
: Samuel, I'm sorry that he sunk his teeth into your back I'm sure we'll find it too Breath out So we can slow down all the bleeding from your skin And
: Lazy stadium night Catfish on the mound. "Strike three," the umpire said, Batter have to go back and sit down. Catfish, million-dollar-man, Nobody
: They call me Catfish Bates 'Cause I can catch a catfish anytime I want to Even when the moon man tells me they won?t bite They call me Catfish Bates
: well i wish, i was a catfish swimin' in the, the deep blue sea i have all you pretty women fishin' after me showin' up after me oh well ow well oh
: the stars up above that play with laughing sam's dice they make us feel the world was made for us the zodiac glass that bleams come through the skies
: Well I wish, I was a catfish Swimin in the, the deep blue sea I have all you pretty women Fishin after me Showin up after me Oh well Ow well Oh yeah
: Nobody ever had a dream round here, but I don't really mind and/that it's starting to get to me Nobody ever pulls the seams round here, but I don't
: Nobody ever had a dream round here But I don't really mind that it's starting to get to me Nobody ever pulls the seams round here But I don't really
: I have been with the best that the bastards could muster From Danny the Dildo to Sidney the Snake And I feel like a working girl pausing to wonder
: Freedom is slavery. War is peace. Ignorance is Strength. Existence is suffering.
: Ich tote sieben Tage, lebenslang, In jeder Hirnwindung klebt Blut, Ich zunde ganze Kontinente an, Ich denke schnell, ich hasse gut. Ich sae Zwietracht
: Hallo Christ mach` die Tschick aus, Jesus hat nicht geraucht, Hat kein kleines Stuck Frankreich In der Lunge gebraucht. Hallo Christ, zieh` den Bauch
: Das Wort wird ganz starr in der Kehle, Und trotzdem spuckst du es noch aus. Du blickst ohne Mitleid und Seele am eiskalten Lochern hinaus. So oft du
: Wer wei?, wie lange Du schon Unter Baumen lebst Und Dir aus ihren Wurzeln Deine Kleider webst? Der Steine Atem kennt nur, Wer auf ihnen liegt, Sich
