Oh, Ophelia, heaven help a fool who falls in love Oh, Ophelia, you've been on my mind girl since the flood Oh, Ophelia, you've been on my mind girl like a drug Ah, ah when I was younger, I, I should have known better And I can't feel no remorse, and you

We are the small axe If you are the big tree Sharpened to cut you down Ready to cut you down Shall bury in it, shall bury in it And whosoever diggeth a pit Ready to cut you down (well sharp) Why boasteth thyself Oh, evil men

Keep ya head up, ooh, child, things are gonna get easier Keep ya head up, ooh, child, things'll get brighter Little somethin' for my godson Elijah and a little girl named Corinne Some say the blacker the berry, the sweeter the juice I say the darker the

Well I don't need you hangin' round my door Tryin' to drag me back down to the shore And I ain't gonna drink your dirty water no more Well I got wet from my head down to my legs And I drank dirty water down to the dregs But I won't do it again I don't

My troubles test me on the daily They say that only God can save me I think I'm slowly going under But I won't ever tell my brother And now I wonder where's the good gone? 'Cause I can't find no miracles 'til I go home Oh, I wonder where's the good gone?

She is love And her ways are high and steep And I believe her when she speaks And I believe, I do believe her when she speaks I do believe her when she speaks Oh when the sunshine beckons to ya And your wings begin to unfold The thoughts you bring and

Round and round, round we go Aw yeah, I get around Still clown with the Underground, when we come around Stronger than ever Back to get wreck All respect to those who break their neck to keep their hoes in check 'Cause oh they sweat a brother majorly And

Spanish bombs, yo te quierro y finito Yo te querda, oh mi corazón Oh mi corazón, oh mi corazón Spanish songs in Andalucia The shooting sites in the days of '39 Oh, please, leave the vendanna open Fredrico Lorca is dead and gone Bullet holes in the

But your flag decal won't get you into Heaven anymore They're already overcrowded from your dirty little war Now Jesus don't like killin', no matter what the reason's for And your flag decal won't get you into Heaven anymore While digesting Reader's

Oh, the guns of Brixton You can crush us You can bruise us But you'll have to answer to When they kick out your front door How you gonna come? With your hands on your head Or on the trigger of your gun Shot down on the pavement