Whiskey and sunshine makes for a good time, pretty girl on my mind how I wish she was mine.
Whiskey and clear skies, red ants and deer flies, play fresbee with cowpies, how I miss her brown eyes.
Whiskey and sundown, wish you were around. I've searched but have not found, my smile turns to a frown.
Whiskey and full moon, my bottle's gone too soon, I trip over dustbroom, wish I was in your room.
Whiskey and sunshine makes for a good time, pretty girl on my mind, how I wish she was mine.
Written By: Chad Lore Woke up this morning and I went straight back to bed, should have gone to work but I felt more like dreaming instead. The first dream I had started out a little something like this, a señorita with dark brown eyes and black hair gave me a kiss. And she said shalalala....
Feeling pretty good, but you know to my surprise she said, I´m just a dream so now I´ll have to say good'bye. I awoke without my little lady by my side, I went on back to dreaming hoping I might take her for a ride, and I sang shalalala....
Started zapping through my dreams like I had a couple extra to spare, I looked to the East and looked to the West but my little lady wasn´t there. I dreamt of Jacks and quarterbacks and punt returns for ninety yards, still I couldn't find my queen of spades deep down in my deck of cards. And I sang shalalala....
I searched every nook and cranny deep inside my mind still there wasn't any señorita I could find. Slowly I awoke and guess who was lying there, it was the señorita with dark brown eyes and long black shiny hair. And we sang shalalala....
Written By: Chad Lore There's slippery mountains in the Italian Alps, there's sun and snow and heat and tuna fish and olives to eat. Fallen houses and roofs of stone caved in, bedposts on doorways and boys and girls falling in, stories and layers of trees fill the holes in the floor.
Imagine the view of the stars through these walls in this bed. (x2) She'll take your life in her hand and push it in. (x2)
Her beautiful thumb will take us around the world, she dreams she could fly if she tried I think she could. She takes the water from the steep mountainside and slides with the cascade down. She rolls on the ground like a dog with a moth and dries in the sun and forms into seeds for the meadows. She grows in the dirt under each season that will pass springing and turning her gut to the sky. She screams and cries and laughs and wets herself down and waters the soil and comes and births the color of winter and day. Thundersteps from the neighbors digging holes in the floor.
As Fantastic as You
Written By: Chad Lore
Not even the sunshine, or a clear day in springtime or a bodega of red wine could make me feel this fine. Not even a rainbow or a beach in Mexico, or a song on the radio, could pick me up when I'm this low.
Not even twelve cold beers or champagne on New Year's, or an Outback with five gears could make me feel so down right dandy, utterly excellent, wonderfully wunderbar, unfathomably fantastic as you. Not even Monday Night Football or the first autumn snowfall, or even Ed McMahon's phone call, could make me feel this tall.