18.000 x 24.000 x 0.750 inches
This piece is not for sale. Please feel free to contact the artist directly regarding this or other pieces.
Click here to contact the artist.
Painting - Oil On Canvas
Oil on Canvas
24" X 18"
How can you call her Baby.Shanna
Baby, baby Don't try to play me You know something's wrong That's why I'm not talkin' to you Baby, baby Don't even fake it You have broke my heart And there's nothing you can do
I tried to call you, just the other day And your own sister told me Someone was takin' my place, oh You wouldn't come to the phone She forgot to put me on hold And I can't believe what I heard What I heard in your very own words How could you call her...
How could you call her baby? How could she be your lady? Thought you were mine Thought I was yours How could you call her sweetheart? How come you're breakin' my heart? How could you be so wrong?
Baby, baby Hear what I'm saying I am not your fool You should see me now as gone Baby, baby You must think I'm crazy I will not come back I feel I have been too wronged
Don't try to call me 'Cause I don't have the time I'll be much, much too busy Hangin' out with friends of mine, oh If we meet in the street You should not even bother to speak 'Cause I still hear the words in my head Those are some words I will never forget How could you call her...
Boy, you owe me an apology Just don't look for forgiveness from me And I tried my best to understand But I've done for you all that I can If I ever see you in the street Just forget that you ever knew me 'Cause I still hear the words in my head Those are some words I will never forget How could you call...
Copyright � Raymond Agius 2013.
George Gordon, Lord Byron (1788-1824)
She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellowed to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express,
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A heart whose love is innocent!
January 26th, 2013
Viewed 148 Times - Last Visitor from Gzira, 00 - Malta on 08/23/2015 at 12:38 PM