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By Chris Rice, Take a little trip with me back to junior high
Set
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By Chris Rice, The moon is high and the sunset fades
The lullabies have
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By Chris Rice, Fading memories ignored
I crawl across the forest floor
Pool reflects an
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By Chris Rice, None of us knows and that makes it a mystery
If
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By Chris Rice, Chorus:
I was thinkin' the other day,
"What if cartoons got saved?
They'd
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By Chris Rice, Chorus1
Circle up, circle up around the throne
Old and young saints
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By Chris Rice, You think I’d have it down by now
Been practicin’ for
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By Chris Rice, You think I’d have it down by now
Been practicin’ for
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By Chris Rice, Lazy summer afternoon,
Screened in porch and nothin' to do.
I just
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By Chris Rice, Well you already know life ain’t easy
‘Cause you’ve had more
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By Chris Rice, Looked out my window last night,
From my pillow and I,
Saw
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By Chris Rice, He shares a room outside
With a dozen other guys
And the
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By Chris Rice, There is a candle in every soul
Some brightly burning, some
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By Chris Rice, Well you already know life ain’t easy
‘Cause you’ve had more
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By Chris Rice, A purple sky to close the day
I wade the surf
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By Chris Rice, It's the song of the redeemed
Rising from the African plain
It's
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By Chris Rice, Gentle Freind, who knew my name
and with your hand you
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By Chris Rice, I've come to my senses/
How did I get so far
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By Chris Rice, I’ve come to my senses
How did I get so far
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By Chris Rice, Was I the only one to notice?
That human nature doesn’t
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By Chris Rice, So go ahead and ask her
For happy ever after
'Cause nobody
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By Chris Rice, Every day is a journal page
Every man holds a quill
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By Chris Rice, I can't feel You move inside
I don't hear Your
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By Chris Rice, I heard a rumor
that love will make you crazy.
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By Chris Rice, He rode his wagon into town
A gaudy spectacle
And every gray
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By Chris Rice, My memories of my brothers and me
Make me marvel
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By Chris Rice, Becky has a house on Abundant Live Boulevard
A good
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By Chris Rice, I heard about the day You went away
You said You
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By Chris Rice, Sweetest days of childhood,
Playing in the deep woods,
Stomping through the
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By Chris Rice, Fresh page, new pen
Where do I begin
Words fail, tears come
I
