Тексты песен «Brad Martin»

(B. Simpson/D. Lee) No one thought that I'd jump off that rocky ledge So I did, and I broke my leg And I let Jim Beam tell me I could take some guy Twice my size, but old Jim lied I can't pretend that I aint been...

Every time that we touch I feel like I've been touched So completely When you give me your love I know that I've been loved So completely Long away, every day Baby, I'm here to stay Gonna take this all the way I've...

There must be a demon in that bottle It's been stealing my money all night long I'm down to a dollar on my paycheck But it's all been going to a worthy cause Damn the whiskey For making me feel so good To hell with the...

I never thought this is how it would happen Thought love was so hard to find All that looking, searching for something That was here all the time Just hanging out, laughing and talking Thought you were only a friend By...

The music is low, I'm here all alone Since what you made of me That mirror on the wall Sure says it all, just a fool on a stool's all I see How many times have I stared at that door Knowing Heaven on earth don't want...

Looks like it's gonna be one of those days Sittin' here in traffic twenty minutes late Just about there when that ol' DJ plays A song that takes me back Had a beat up car with a new tape deck A pure jump shock...

Give me this, give me that Put it there, move it back Dig me a hole, go fill it in That don't look right, do it again The boss man He's been rubbing me wrong all day But when I get home My baby's gonna rub me the right...

You feel you're turning in circles There's no end to that dead end road Running around all your feelings Wondering which way to go When that voice that's inside you Gets so loud, you just wanna scream And you find your...

She's been working all day, you'd never know It's over now as she changes clothes Leaves it all behind, that old 9 to 5 Already waiting when I come in Asking how my day has been Knowing all the time, hers was worse...

(Kenny Beard/T. Mullins/Don Pfrimmer) Brown paper bag, a new empty bottle, sits by the bed on the floor Rusty old motel, the plaster is falling, the wind's whipping under the door There aint enough whiskey to last...

I was moving in, moving in for the kill Long about our third date I thought I had her in the palm of my hand So I didn't anticipate, her making me wait, wait Waiting on her kisses Making me wishing for what ain't mine...

(Brad Martin/R. Williamson) The music is low, I'm here all alone Since what you made of me That mirror on the wall Sure says it all, just a fool on a stool's all I see How many times have I stared at that door...