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Your Questions About Heels Over Head Lyrics

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Carol Your Questions About Heels Over Head Lyrics

Carol asks…

Lyrics to this song?

Does anyone know the lyrics to the song by mariah carey and snoop dogg cry baby if so hit me up thanks icon smile Your Questions About Heels Over Head Lyrics
All of u guys need to grow the fuck up the pic is not me its a weekend comment so grow the fuck up and get over it u dumb shit’s

lizzyrose cropped Your Questions About Heels Over Head Lyrics

Our pick of the answers:

I think these are right icon smile Your Questions About Heels Over Head Lyrics

Yo
What’s happenin’?
What you’re cryin’ for?
You know you look too damn good to be cryin’
Come here
Do do do do do yeah yeah
How about a player
DPG style
You know
You know

When I think of our untimely end
And everything we could have been
I cry, baby I cry

Ok
So it’s 5 AM and
I still can’t sleep
Took some medicine
But it’s not working
Someone’s clinging to me
And it’s bittersweet
‘Cause he’s head over heels
But it ain’t that deep
I finally changed my number
Got a different pager
Then last saturday
Your cousin called to say you’re
Tryin’ to reach me
Probably because you see that
I’m with someone new

Late at night like a little child
Wandering ’round alone
In my new friend’s home
On my tippy toes
So that he won’t know
(So that he won’t know)
I still cry baby
(I cry baby)
Over you and me

Sipping Bailey’s Cream
By the stereo
Trying to find relief
On the radio
I’m suppressing the tears
But they start to flow
‘Cause the next song I hear
Is a song I wrote
When we first got together
Early that september
I can’t bear to listen
So I might as well drift
In the kitchen
Pour another glass or two
And I try to forget you
(You)

Late at night like a little child
Wandering ’round alone
In my new friend’s home
(In my new friend’s home on my)
On my tippy toes
So that he won’t know
(So that he won’t know I)
I still cry baby
Over you and me
(You and me)

Baby hear me when I say
Let that man be on his way
Don’t even waste your time
And worry how he handle thangz
(That ain’t right) baby hear me when I say
A playa feelin’ good today (u know ur 2 fly 2 be cryin’)
Don’t even waste your time watch how I handle (watch) thangz
Man ur a fool for this
For this
But on the real dog I’m cool with this we do and this

D-O-DOUBLE G-Y
Kiss the girls and make them cry!

(It’s late)
Late at night like a little child

(I’m like a little child)
Wandering around alone
(Wandering around alone)
In my new friend’s home
(Do do do do do)
On my tippy toes
(Tippy toes)
So that he won’t know
(So that he won’t know)
I still cry baby
(I was babbling)
Over you and me
(Over you and me)

Why is it 5 AM and
I’m still struggeling and
Walking ’round no
Do do do do do do do

(On my tippy toes)
On my tippy toes
So that he won’t know
I still cry baby
(I still cry)
Over you and me

I don’t get no sleep
I’m half awake
Can’t stop thinking of you and me
And everything we used to be
It could have been so perfectly

I cry
I cry
I cry
Oh
I gotta give me some sleep
Cry
Cry
Cry
Cry
Baby and I
Cry
On my tippy toes
So that he won’t know
I still cry
You and I
Over you and me

Late at night like a little child
(Oh like a little child)
Wandering ’round alone
In my new friend’s home
(Do do do do do)
(In my new friend’s home)
On my tippy toes
So that he won’t know
(So that he won’t know)
I still cry
(Do do do do do)
(Do do do do do)
(Do do do do do)
(Do do do do do)
(Do do do do do)

I
Cry
Cry
Cry
Cry

Late at night like a little child
Wandering around alone
In my new friend’s home
On my tippy toes
So that he won’t know
I still cry baby
Over you and me

Do do do do do
Do do do do do
Do do do do do
Do do do do do
Cry baby
On my tippy toes
So that he won’t know
I still cry
Mmmh
Baby and I

Lizzie Your Questions About Heels Over Head Lyrics

Lizzie asks…

Jethro Tull lyrics to “Thick as a Brick”?

lizzyrose cropped Your Questions About Heels Over Head Lyrics

Our pick of the answers:

Thick As A Brick
Really don’t mind if you sit this one out.
My words but a whisper – your deafness a SHOUT.
I may make you feel but I can’t make you think.
Your sperm’s in the gutter – your love’s in the sink.
So you ride yourselves over the fields and
you make all your animal deals and
your wise men don’t know how it feels to be thick as a brick.
And the sand-castle virtues are all swept away in
the tidal destruction
the moral melee.
The elastic retreat rings the close of play as the last wave uncovers
the newfangled way.
But your new shoes are worn at the heels and
your suntan does rapidly peel and
your wise men don’t know how it feels to be thick as a brick.
And the love that I feel is so far away:
I’m a bad dream that I just had today – and you
shake your head and
say it’s a shame.

Spin me back down the years and the days of my youth.
Draw the lace and black curtains and shut out the whole truth.
Spin me down the long ages: let them sing the song.

See there! A son is born – and we pronounce him fit to fight.
There are black-heads on his shoulders, and he pees himself in the night.
We’ll
make a man of him
put him to trade
teach him
to play Monopoly and
to sing in the rain.

The Poet and the painter casting shadows on the water
as the sun plays on the infantry returning from the sea.
The do-er and the thinker: no allowance for the other
as the failing light illuminates the mercenary’s creed.
The home fire burning: the kettle almost boiling
but the master of the house is far away.
The horses stamping – their warm breath clouding
in the sharp and frosty morning of the day.
And the poet lifts his pen while the soldier sheaths his sword.

And the youngest of the family is moving with authority.
Building castles by the sea, he dares the tardy tide to wash them all aside.

The cattle quietly grazing at the grass down by the river
where the swelling mountain water moves onward to the sea:
the builder of the castles renews the age-old purpose
and contemplates the milking girl whose offer is his need.
The young men of the household have
all gone into service and
are not to be expected for a year.
The innocent young master – thoughts moving ever faster
has formed the plan to change the man he seems.
And the poet sheaths his pen while the soldier lifts his sword.

And the oldest of the family is moving with authority.
Coming from across the sea, he challenges the son who puts him to the run.

What do you do when
the old man’s gone – do you want to be him? And
your real self sings the song.
Do you want to free him?
No one to help you get up steam
and the whirlpool turns you `way off-beam.

LATER.
I’ve come down from the upper class to mend your rotten ways.
My father was a man-of-power whom everyone obeyed.
So come on all you criminals!
I’ve got to put you straight just like I did with my old man
twenty years too late.
Your bread and water’s going cold.
Your hair is too short and neat.
I’ll judge you all and make damn sure that no-one judges me.

You curl your toes in fun as you smile at everyone – you meet the stares.
You’re unaware that your doings aren’t done.
And you laugh most ruthlessly as you tell us what not to be.
But how are we supposed to see where we should run?
I see you shuffle in the courtroom with
your rings upon your fingers and
your downy little sidies and
your silver-buckle shoes.
Playing at the hard case, you follow the example of the comic-paper idol
who lets you bend the rules.

So!
Come on ye childhood heroes!
Won’t you rise up from the pages of your comic-books
your super crooks
and show us all the way.
Well! Make your will and testament. Won’t you?
Join your local government.
We’ll have Superman for president
let Robin save the day.

You put your bet on number one and it comes up every time.
The other kids have all backed down and they put you first in line.
And so you finally ask yourself just how big you are
and take your place in a wiser world of bigger motor cars.
And you wonder who to call on.

So! Where the hell was Biggles when you needed him last Saturday?
And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you though?
They’re all resting down in Cornwall
writing up their memoirs for a paper-back edition
of the Boy Scout Manual.

LATER.
See there! A man born – and we pronounce him fit for peace.
There’s a load lifted from his shoulders with the discovery of his disease.
We’ll
take the child from him
put it to the test
teach it
to be a wise man
how to fool the rest.

QUOTE
We will be geared to the average rather than the exceptional
God is an overwhelming responsibility
we walked through the maternity ward and saw 218 babies wearing nylons
cats are on the upgrade
upgrade? Hipgrave. Oh, Mac.

LATER
In the clear white circles of morning wonder,
I take my place with the lord of the hills.
And the blue-eyed soldiers stand slightly discoloured (in neat little rows)
sporting canvas frills.
With their jock-straps pinching, they slouch to attention,
while queueing for sarnies at the office canteen.
Saying — how’s your granny and
good old Ernie: he coughed up a tenner on a premium bond win.

The legends (worded in the ancient tribal hymn) lie cradled
in the seagull’s call.
And all the promises they made are ground beneath the sadist’s fall.
The poet and the wise man stand behind the gun,
and signal for the crack of dawn.
Light the sun.

Do you believe in the day? Do you?
Believe in the day! The Dawn Creation of the Kings has begun.
Soft Venus (lonely maiden) brings the ageless one.
Do you believe in the day?
The fading hero has returned to the night – and fully pregnant with the day,
wise men endorse the poet’s sight.
Do you believe in the day? Do you? Believe in the day!

Let me tell you the tales of your life of
your love and the cut of the knife
the tireless oppression
the wisdom instilled
the desire to kill or be killed.
Let me sing of the losers who lie in the street as the last bus goes by.
The pavements ar empty: the gutters run red – while the fool
toasts his god in the sky.

So come all ye young men who are building castles!
Kindly state the time of the year and join your voices in a hellish chorus.
Mark the precise nature of your fear.
Let me help you pick up your dead as the sins of the father are fed
with
the blood of the fools and
the thoughts of the wise and
from the pan under your bed.
Let me make you a present of song as
the wise man breaks wind and is gone while
the fool with the hour-glass is cooking his goose and
the nursery rhyme winds along.

So! Come all ye young men who are building castles!
Kindly state the time of the year and join your voices in a hellish chorus.
Mark the precise nature of your fear.
See! The summer lightning casts its bolts upon you
and the hour of judgement draweth near.
Would you be
the fool stood in his suit of armour or
the wiser man who rushes clear.
So! Come on ye childhood heroes!
Won’t your rise up from the pages of your comic-books
your super-crooks and
show us all the way.
Well! Make your will and testament.
Won’t you? Join your local government.
We’ll have Superman for president
let Robin save the day.
So! Where the hell was Biggles when you needed him last Saturday?
And where were all the sportsmen who always pulled you through?
They’re all resting down in Cornwall – writing up their memoirs
for a paper-back edition of the Boy Scout Manual.

OF COURSE
So you ride yourselves over the fields and
you make all your animal deals and
your wise men don’t know how it feels to be thick as a brick.

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