Did you ever have one of those days? From the moment you woke up nothing went your way I know that you have, everybody does Your life isn't perfect, and
翻訳: 悲しみ. 当時の一つ.
of forgotten times, Days of the falconer, Telling all the sins of a man who lived long ago, Listen to the songs of the ancient bards, Days of the falconer
all comes through freedom and a deep look at the past. It brings a person willing to be hopeful. But just cannot. Yet".] farewell, damsel of grief you
my bridal days. And I collapsed in a forlorn paradise. Through forgotten fields of remembrance As the moments of harmony die, We cry with Ebony hearts of grief
you feel me get this ho shit jumpin' So don't believe e'rythin' you hear Just like a Q-tip, niggaz be all in ya ear Three sixty five days of the year
be rain And as beautiful as life is there still could be pain Down the block I hear the sirens just-a screaming away And then the inevitable happens the ending of days
it again) Okay, I remember the days (let's do it again) High rights, low lefts, even stevens and fades (do it a) Troops, Lottos, and BK's, those was the days
Chorus No I'm not the blame I'ts not my fault you change girl I'm still the same man who gave you everything you wanted Chorus I remember days gone
in the streets And I'm more underground than your basement concrete Braids in my hair, gold still in my teeth Still bringin' the beef if you're bringin' me grief
steal And they rode around and 'round on heaven's wheel Father Jesus, I'm an outlaw, killer and a thief And I slow down only to sow my grief I'm Outlaw
Mistress of the mind Take me where the air is clean Ignorance is kind Emerald and evergreen 30 days September Year of miracle and grief Through the haze
, never win, but you know Through you I spit and make the whole globe glow I zone on all the things you ever did for me, my grief as a kid Easing my
Henry Ford Well, I've got a car that's mine alone That me and the finance company own A ready made pile of manufactured grief And if I ain't out of gas
three-two on contact Cogniac, get me strapped with the black gat Itchin' to bomb back Hoes can't get no sleep Bullets hit your chin for the grief that
like a broken stove Me and my Filipinos, Tongans and Cholos ... On the soil, taking precaution On the roof, in the trees with the Latins, listening and watching, oooh ... Good grief
said, "He was willing to give up" That is, the man who couldn't speak The story goes that when his tongue was loosed Expecting cries of pent up grief
