كوكتيل

يزن حمدان - جرحك صعب أذاني

اغاني استكنان
كوكتيل

سارة الزكريا
اجمل احساس
اصاد عيني 
لو قلك الحب شوية عليك
راجع ليه من تاني 


اغاني استكنان|كوكتيل|سارة الزكريا اجمل احساس|روقان 2021

#كذابين
#كل  ما انسالك كلامك،
#فوتي بعلاقة
#يزن_حمدان

يزن حمدان كوكتيل حصري  فوتي بعلاقة + جرحك صعب اذاني + كدابين cover 2021

اخ من الدنيا العمر رايح

أغنيه لليبيه نبكي على العمر الي راح خليتي قلبي ❤حزينه الي عانه منك سنين (128 kbps).mp3

اساهر ليلي

y2mate.com - مزمار غلطان استاهل اكتر بالشكل الجديدواجمد طلعات عريض ترند العيد والموسم اوعي يفوتك حظي

�مشتاجين : عبده الدشناوي

اوضاع تحير فينا وتعبنا واجد وشقينا بطئ(MP3_160K).mp3

ترندات الشيخ ويحيى الدميري و الديري سلطنه _اساهر ليلي واصابني وجع ملامه الدنيا   شقد تعبنا  جرحك صعب

Eqlbeha Bena Ya Sawaq - اقلبها بينا ياسواق(MP3_160K).mp3

يا دنيا ما رينا منك ارحومه العباسي

© 1997 – 2025 Lance Thomas Davidson. All Rights Reserved. 
Unauthorized duplication or reproduction in any form is strictly prohibited.

I’m always drawn back to the streets where I’ve been,
The houses, the whispers, the ghosts in between.
A brownstone waits in the East Seventies’ rain,
Where memories linger and echo again.
It held my first room, with its attic decay,
Red velvet chairs where the sunlight would fray.
A color of tobacco stain ran through the wall,
And Rome hung in prints down the narrow hall.

There was one small window and a rusted grate,
A fire escape staring down at fate.
Yet my spirit rose when I felt that key,
Cold in my hand but it welcomed me.
It wasn’t much, yet it felt like mine,
The first place I’d cross that sacred line.
My books were there, my pencils too,
Dreams of a writer just coming through.

Oh, that room was dark but it carried my flame,
I whispered my stories and carved my name.
Every night I swore I’d be,
The one who’d write eternity.

Never thought I’d write of Holly’s grace,
Her laughter still haunts that lonely place.
Didn’t think I’d ever recall her eyes,
Till Joe Bell called through gray October skies.
He ran that bar around the bend,
A stubborn heart, an honest friend.
His voice came rough through the telephone line,
He said, “Get here fast, it’s time, it’s time.”

I took a cab through the thunder’s fall,
Past mirrored windows and iron walls.
Dreamed she’d be there, her shadow near,
But only silence filled my ear.
Joe Bell was there, the mirrors old,
The rain outside turned brass to gold.
He poured one glass, said, “She’s gone again,”
And the jukebox hummed a requiem.

He talked of Holly like she’d just gone out,
Said he still took messages, still kept count.
He spoke of her smile, her reckless run,
Of ice hockey games and a Weimaraner’s fun.
He’s got his fixations, they never fade,
Our Gal Sunday and songs Broadway made.
He swears he’s kin to Gilbert or Sullivan’s rhyme,
But the truth is he’s married to time.

That bar’s a shrine with its mirrors cracked,
Two reflections, one looking back.
Neon avoided the window’s glare,
Only the rain painted color there.
I sat and listened, the moment froze,
The ghost of Holly brushed my clothes.
She was there in the hum of the venting heat,
In the tapping rhythm of New York’s beat.

Oh Holly, girl of cigarette smoke,
Your laughter still drifts through the words I wrote.
You ran from men, from love, from blame,
But freedom’s just another name.
If I could see you one more night,
I’d tell you your wings still catch the light.
Though you vanished beyond the dawn’s divide,
Your song still rings down Lexington side.

Now years have gone, the city’s changed,
Brownstones cleaned, the ghosts rearranged.
Yet every time the seasons turn,
I feel that same old fire burn.
The key still cold, the dream still young,
The same old stories left unsung.
And somewhere high above the town,
Her spirit drifts and won’t come down.

So here’s to rooms with broken floors,
To lonely hearts and open doors.
To every soul who dares belong,
To every writer’s first-born song.
I’ll walk those blocks till memories fade,
Where shadows fall and dreams are made.
And when my name dissolves in stone,
I’ll still be singing, not alone.

I’m always drawn back, I always will be,
To that brownstone dream that set me free.
The rain still falls, the typewriter hums,
And Holly’s ghost forever strums.
Down Lexington, where echoes blend,
Some stories never find their end.


© 1997 – 2025 Lance Thomas Davidson. All Rights Reserved. Unauthorized duplication or reproduction in any form is strictly prohibited.



Breakfast After Tiffany's -Version 1

تحميل الاغنبة كاملة
https://kol7agaaa.blogspot.com/2018/08/blog-post_27.html
حيرت قلبي معاك وانا بداري واخبي
قلي اعمل ايه وياك والا اعمل ايه وايا قلبي
بدي اشكيلك من نار حبي
بدي احكيلك عا اللي في قلبي
واقول لك عاللي سهرني واقول لك عاللي بكاني
واصور لك ضنى روحي وعزة نفسي مانعاني

يا قاسي بص في عنيا وشوف ايه انكتب فيها
دي نظرة شوق وحنيه ودي دمعه بداريها
وده خيال بين الاجفان فضل معايا الليل كله
سهرني بين فكر واشجان وفات لي جوه العين ظله
وبين شوقي وحرماني وحيرتي ويا كتماني

بدي اشكيلك من نار حبي
بدي احكيلك عا اللي في قلبي
واقول لك عاللي سهرني واقول لك عاللي بكاني
واصور لك ضنى روحي وعزة نفسي مانعاني

ترندات الشيخ ويحيى الدميري و الديري سلطنه _اساهر ليلي واصابني وجع ملامه الدنيا شقد تعبنا جرحك صعب

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