(Clark Wayne) When you're slippin' down the Mississippi, there ain't no need for gettin' lippy, laze in the sun... | |
- Oh, just some place to laze about. | |
- Uncle mike, can we have "laze-on" for dessert? | |
- We sent you out here to kill a spider. - Not to laze about. | |
- while you laze around on your ass! | |
(Clark Wayne) When you're slippin' down the Mississippi, there ain't no need for gettin' lippy, laze in the sun... | |
- Oh, just some place to laze about. | |
- Uncle mike, can we have "laze-on" for dessert? | |
- We sent you out here to kill a spider. - Not to laze about. | |
- while you laze around on your ass! | |
He lazes about | |
My son's 20 and lazes around from day to night. | |
When the hot midday sun rises, the herd lazes beneath the conifers to digest. | |
He lazes about | |
My son's 20 and lazes around from day to night. | |
When the hot midday sun rises, the herd lazes beneath the conifers to digest. | |
Days passed peacefully as they lazed in the shade and did what lions do best during the hottest part of the day... sleep. | |
So the guitar track on... the solo... on 'Crosstown Traffic' is, the guitar is lazed by the sound of the kazoo... and that's Jimi with this particular comb. | |
- Don't just lazing about. | |
- Go! No more lazing around and farting in silk sheets. | |
- I'm not lazing around on my ass! | |
- You get up, stop lazing about. | |
Abe's too busy with his big feet up, lazing with his cronies in the parlor of the White House, as his war takes our fathers, sons, and brothers. | |
Days passed peacefully as they lazed in the shade and did what lions do best during the hottest part of the day... sleep. | |
So the guitar track on... the solo... on 'Crosstown Traffic' is, the guitar is lazed by the sound of the kazoo... and that's Jimi with this particular comb. | |
- Don't just lazing about. | |
- Go! No more lazing around and farting in silk sheets. | |
- I'm not lazing around on my ass! | |
- You get up, stop lazing about. | |
Abe's too busy with his big feet up, lazing with his cronies in the parlor of the White House, as his war takes our fathers, sons, and brothers. | |