1. |
City Song
02:05
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I’d kinda like to take a single day,
Really get away
From this city life.
I think it’s time I stop the daily grind,
Get some peace of mind,
Besides...
I’m tired of the people everywhere,
And the city air,
And this crumby weather.
Let’s pack our bags and take a trip for two,
Only me and you,
Right now.
I’m not talkin’ 'bout
Coney Island.
That’s not good enough you see.
I’m goin’ where there’s nobody around,
And there’s just the sound
Of the cool water.
I’d say that it’s the best that I can do
if it’s only you
And I.
--
But when we get away,
I get lonesome
For those city sounds I know.
I long to hear my neighbors down the hall,
Voices through the wall,
And that subway chime.
So in the end it turns out that I long
For that city song
Tonight.
Written by Janelle Reichman Copyright 2012
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2. |
Never Go Back
02:04
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Oh I went right back to my hometown,
And saw my baby there.
Dressed up in yella with some other fella.
A week I'm gone and now my stuff is on the street.
I'm gonna put myself on a train,
Gonna leave all these woes behind.
Gonna start a new life, find a good-lookin wife,
And never go back there again, no I won't do it,
I'll never go back there again.
Written by Chris Johnson Copyright 2012
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3. |
She's Got The Rhythm
02:00
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Whenever she goes down the boulevard,
Each man she passes is hardly able to speak.
She's so unique 'cuz,
She's got the rhythm,
Don't know where it's from.
Hips hypnotize you like a pendulum.
I'd follow her for hours.
Gotta find a cold shower right now.
---
She's got the rhythm
That I can't explain.
It stops your heart and liquefies your brain.
I'd follow her for hours.
Gotta find a cold shower right now.
Written by Chris Cortier Copyright 2012
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4. |
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The femme fatale of the flea market.
Like a High Priestess of Podunk.
A sorceress from old Nantucket.
She must be from another world.
Like Cleopatra at the café.
The wicked witch of West Cincinnati.
A demoness and what a beauty.
She must be from another world.
She’s gonna shake your little scene,
With a style and grace supreme.
Gothic poems freshly spun,
And a Pandora’s box of fun.
In the temple of her art,
In the mystery of her heart,
In a misty moonbeam sight,
She disappears into the night.
Written by Jason Benjamin Copyright 2012
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Red Hook Ramblers Brooklyn, New York
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