he can be like a coat from the cold, Songs about Texas sing them often every time I think I've got no home. Nothing short of the gospel hymns, I guess
this world, way down South I went to church, sang a lot of hymns, way down South I learned to work on my pickup truck, way down South I played my guitar
and laid her body in the ground my eyes were wet my face was very long the pastor said son here you are won't you please take this guitar sing dear departed
la place vibrante d'air chaud Ou pas meme ne parait un chien Ondulante comme un roseau La fille bondit s'en va s'en vient Ni guitare ni tambourin Pour
the Goddess Quetet Tent which Liveth on the Blood of the Dead. On Their Blocks. They Cut into Pieces the Flesh of the Dead. Singing Hymns of Torture
had a pulse As we freed ourselves from the rain. There's a disgruntled metalhead playing guitar For a pop-singer up on the screen. With his guitar
hell Written in the pages of the past lies our fate Battles in the twilight, on and on I sing Ancient tales forgotten I will tell you all my friends [Guitar
Carl] Hey, genius. You even know what that means? [Meatwad] Uh-uh - what does it mean? [Carl] Where's the keyboards, and the tambourine, and the guitar
album "Once Upon The Cross".] [2:59] Disemboweled on the altar Jesus Christ Entrails in the pentagram circle Spill his blood and reversing catholic hymn
: Dried up, a guitar upon my knee I should have sold out when the devil came for me Dig a hole and throw it out to sea Break the code, how happy I could