pantin', some electric chillin' cryin' But, ooh, mistook, misgiven Got me up and walking Baby, but I'm walking blue, walking blue Well some people say boy, the walking blues
that babe, had them old walkin' blues Woke up this morning, I feel 'round for my shoes You know 'bout that babe, Lord, I had them old walkin' blues
Vertaling: Grateful Dead. Walking Blues.
," the baby they called "Kid Blast." Some say they lived off gambling and runnin' numbers too. It always seemed they got caught between the mob and the men in blue
the facial turn into a human tornado, yes I'm able, cut up the gonga, I'm Philly label blunt sponsered, blaze mo than a Grateful Dead concert, Smoke
Oscar Wilde But he didn't mind, why, he just smiled Yes, and the ocean parts when I walk through And the clouds dissolve and the sky turns blue I'm
he was penniless. Maybe in the morning, as the politician sipped breakfast tea, She lay cold and dead before the empty grate. Every year thousand of
jazz And all that jazz Slick your hair And wear your buckle shoes And all that Jazz I hear that Father Dip Is gonna blow the blues And all that Jazz Hold
the blasphemy You are fucking dead to me You are dead to me This de los muerte, this day of the dead It turns for me celebration instead Skull and bones, walking
drop him under the bed and leave him there dead Take out your parakeet, with scissors, clip his head Then get the charcoal, whassup, burn your dog's legs Walk
Oscar Wilde, but he didn't mind, why, he just smiled Yes, and the ocean parts when I walk through, and the clouds dissolve and the sky turns blue I'
of cold and he was penniless. Maybe in the morning, as the politician sipped breakfast tea, She lay cold and dead before the empty grate. Every year
the blasphemy You are fucking dead to me You are dead to me This de los muerte, this day of the dead It turns for me celebration instead Skull and Bones, walking
: [Originally by the Grateful Dead] As I was walkin down rubadub square Not a chill to the weather but a nip to the air From another direction she was
dying of cold and he was penniless. Maybe in the morning, as the politician sipped breakfast tea, She lay cold and dead before the empty grate. Every
him under the bed, and leave him there dead Take out your parakeet, with scissors, clip his head Then get the charcoal, whassup, burn your dog's legs Walk
