Nostalgia es lo que siente mi pecho Cuando duerme sin tu cabeza apoyada sobre El hombro derecho anhela tu mano izquierda Como suave cobija con sus cinco
Traducción: Enroscado. Sambita.
: Nostalgia es lo que siente mi pecho cuando duerme sin tu cabeza apoyada sobre... el hombro derecho anhela tu mano izquierda como suave cobija con sus
samba! Morning time, noon or night; - wo-oh, lick samba! A dis-a lick samba, lick samba, lick samba! Woh oh, lick samba! Lick samba, lick samba, lick samba
se faz um samba nao Fazer samba nao e contar piada E quem faz samba assim nao e de nada O bom samba e uma forma de oracao Porque o samba e a tristeza
Samba de Orly Vai, meu irmao, pega esse aviao, voce tem razao, de correr assim, desse frio, mas beija, O meu Rio de Janeiro Antes que um aventureiro
fazer um samba com beleza A? preciso um bocado de tristeza SenA?o nA?o se faz um samba nA?o Fazer samba nA?o A© contar piada E quem faz samba assim
take my hand And samba through life with me Someone to cling to me Stay with me right or wrong Someone to sing to me Some little samba song Someone
She was standing at the station Small town suitcase in her hand There were dreams she found inside her That no one cared to understand She never talks
Hey mister, can you tell me What this world's about It might just help me out I used to be a dreamer But my dreams have burned You know how luck turns
Father Time, I couldn't make her wanna stay I couldn't seem to find the words to say Now, I have to live in yesterday Father Time, I thought that you
The lightning flashed as angels Rode fiery chargers through the clouds That answer scared me into tears And all the grownups laughed out loud Now the
If God was a woman With long blond hair Would you kneel at her altar And offer her prayer Could she be your addiction Could she make you sin If God was
The old man down on the corner Is drowning in his pain I can see the sorrow in his eyes His tears, they leave a stain The streets have left him broken
He was a man A ramblin' man he was yes he was Guitar in hand His home was on the road and that's where he was He's seen a thousand roads He's been a
One, two, three, four Oh yea Made in America, nineteen fifty nine Born down by the factories, cross the Jersey City line Raised on radio, just a jukebox
In your river of love In your river of love In your river of love In your river of love Well let me tell you a story About body and blood Well there'
