Lazy Sunday, wake up in the late afternoon Call Parnell just to see how he's doin' Hello? What up, Parns? Yo, Samberg, what's crackin'? You thinkin' what
(Carole Bayer Sager/Bette Midler/Bruce Roberts) I stayed out late one night and you moved in I didn't mind 'cause of the state you were in May I remind
SMITHER-JONES - Bruce Foxton Here we go again, it's Monday at last, He's heading for the Waterloo line. To catch the 8am fast, its usually dead on time
my whole team just to do that In a blue hat with black baggy cord and I And I style green just to sore your eye Hard to die like Bruce Lee get a victory
the house for the four My niggaz locked up, left a kilo, it's good as sold Stole gumbo pot, creamery rise to the top My limo even slide through on the late
car I turn on the radio I'm pulling you close You just say no You say you don't like it But girl I know you're a liar 'Cause when we kiss Fire Late
working hard each day I'm not asking for the world you see I'm just asking girl Talk to me Well late at night I hear the music softly playing And late
heat coming 'round I go to put my arm around you and you give me a look like I'm way out of bounds well you let out one of your bored sighs Well lately
ashes flew Get out the way, Old Dan Tucker Your're to late to get your supper Get out the way, Old Dan Tucker You're to late to get your supper (backround Bruce
(southside johnny and the asbury jukes (better days) Written by bruce I know what it's like to have failed baby With the whole world lookin' on I know
on Now I see your pieces crumbled and our book of faith's been tossed And I'm just down here searching for my own piece of the cross In the late afternoon
I could give it all to you now, if only you could ask And don't call for your surgeon, even he says it's too late It's not your lungs this time, it'
You get up every morning at the sound of the bell You get to work late and the boss man's giving you hell Till you're out on a midnight run Losing
Come Saturday night I let my ramrod rock She's a hot stepping hemi with a four on the floor She's a roadrunner engine in a '32 Ford Late at night
in the rain and wind They found him shot dead outside of Stockton His body lyin' on a muddy hill Nothin' taken nothin' stolen Somebody killin' just to kill Late
man Well you can beat on your chest Hell any monkey can But you got me feelin' like a real man Oh feelin' like a real man Me and my girl Saturday night Late
dice I've stumbled and I know I made my mistakes But tonight I'm gonna be playin' for all of the stakes Well it's never too late so come on girl
and burn Does fortune wait or just the black hand of fate This love potion's all we've got One toast before it's too late If the angels are unkind