My Way – Comme d’Habitude
My Way – Comme d’Habitude Lire la suite »
Rosetta (who are you talking about?)Sweet Loretta Fart, she thought she was a cleanerBut she was a frying pan (Sweet Rosetta Martin, Rosetta)The picker, the picker!Picture the fingers burning! (Ooh)OKJojo was a man who thought he was a lonerBut he knew it couldn’t lastJojo left his home in Tucson, ArizonaFor some California grassGet back, get
Nothing Else Matters Lire la suite »
Rosetta (who are you talking about?)Sweet Loretta Fart, she thought she was a cleanerBut she was a frying pan (Sweet Rosetta Martin, Rosetta)The picker, the picker!Picture the fingers burning! (Ooh)OKJojo was a man who thought he was a lonerBut he knew it couldn’t lastJojo left his home in Tucson, ArizonaFor some California grassGet back, get
Version Anglaise There is a house in New OrleansThey call the Rising SunAnd it’s been the ruin of many a poor boyAnd God, I know I’m one My mother was a tailorShe sewed my new blue jeansMy father was a gamblin’ manDown in New Orleans Now the only thing a gambler needsIs a suitcase and
The House of the Rising Sun Lire la suite »