Michael McDonald - I can let go now

Tekst :

It was so right, it was so wrong
Almost at the same time
The pain and ache a heart can take
No one really knows

When the memories cling and keep you there
Till you no longer care
And you can let go now

It s wrong for me to cling to you
Somehow I just needed time
From what was to be-it s not like me
To hold somebody down

But I was tossed high by love
I almost never came down
Only to land here
Where love s no longer found
Where I m no longer bound
And I can let go now

Inne utwory

  • After the dance
  • Higher ground
  • You show me
  • I stand for you
  • On my own
  • How sweet it is
  • On your every word
  • One gift
  • Peace
  • What makes a man hold on
  • Baby i need your loving
  • Loving you is sweeter than ever
  • All i need
  • Our love
  • White christmas - Winter wonderland
  • I gotta try
  • Second that emotion
  • Reflections
  • Losowe utwory

    White lines

    I tried to tell you
    I ve got to get away
    I tried to say
    I need my space
    I got to get some
    Distance in between
    My heart and my head

    I m on the razor s edge
    I ve been here before
    I know the way

    Słodko-gorzki

    Oto coś co zdarzyć się musi, napewno znak
    Coś co sprawi, że wreszcie zrozumiesz mnie tak
    To na pewno sie stanie, ale jeszcze nie dzisiaj
    Oto jest ciemny pokój, w którym ja i ty
    Bawiliśmy się ogniem całą noc, a drzwi
    Wszystkie wyjścia i okna są ciągle zamknięte

    Oto...

    First time

    I m ready to embrace this, I m ready for repair
    I ve got so many layers left by amateur painters who covered
    over what was there
    I stuffed myself sick on your memory and the beautiful mess
    we d made
    But I m so tired of being inspired only...

    Never make a promise

    I don t have to think about it
    I ain t never been in love
    Well I ve only dreamed about it
    But now I think I know it s clear to me
    You ve made me understand
    I promise I ll never hurt

    Overs

    Why don t we stop foolin ourselves
    The game is over, over, over
    No good times, no bad times
    There s no times at all
    Just the New York Times

    Sittin by the window sill
    Near the flowers
    We might as well be aaprt
    It hardly matters