#
Название
Альбом
Текст песни
Everybody has their own idea of heaven
What kind of paradise they'll see. Pearly gates, streets of gold
No gettin sick or growing old. Sounds like a beautiful place to be.
But as for me, my heaven is a wood frame house with a great big porch going all the way around
Sittin on the swing listening to the sounds of the birds sing
Чтобы увидеть полный текст,
Поток по треку
Похожие по звучанию треки из нашей коллекции