If I Should stay I would only be in your way So I’ll go But I know I’ll think of you every step of the way And I… Will always Love you, oohh Will always Love you You My darling you Mmm-mm Bittersweet Memories That is all I’m taking with me So good-bye Please don’t cry We both know I’m not what you You need And I… Will always love you I… Will always love you You, ooh [Instrumental / Sax solo] I hope life treats you kind And I hope you have all you’ve dreamed of And I wish you joy and happiness But above all this I wish you love And I… Will always love you I… Will always love you [Repeat] I, I will always love You…. You
Tina Turner – Simply The Best [Lyrics] I call you when I need you, my heart’s on fire You come to me, come to me wild and wired When you come to me Give me everything I need Give me a lifetime of promises and a world of dreams Speak a language of love like you know what it means And it can’t be wrong Take my heart and make it strong baby You’re simply the best, better than all the rest Better than anyone, anyone I’ve ever met I’m stuck on your heart, and hang on every word you say Tear us apart, baby I would rather be dead In your heart I see the star of every night and every day In your eyes I get lost, I get washed away Just as long as I’m here in your arms I could be in no better place You’re simply the best, better than all the rest Better than anyone, anyone I’ve ever met I’m stuck on your heart, and hang on every word you say Tear us apart, baby I would rather be dead Each time you leave me I start losing control You’re walking away with my heart and my soul I can feel you even when I’m alone Oh baby, don’t let go
Said a people to a poet—” Go out from among us straightway! While we are thinking earthly things, thou singest of divine. There’s a little fair brown nightingale, who, sitting in the gateways Makes fitter music to our ears than any song of thine!” The poet went out weeping—the nightingale ceased chanting; “Now, wherefore, O thou nightingale, is all thy sweetness done?” I cannot sing my earthly things, the heavenly poet wanting, Whose highest harmony includes the lowest under sun.” The poet went out weeping,—and died abroad, bereft there— The bird flew to his grave and died, amid a thousand wails:— And, when I last came by the place, I swear the music left there Was only of the poet’s song, and not the nightingale’s.