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Coincidence is God's way of remaining anonymous

When marimba rhythms start to play, dance with me, make me sway.
Like a lazy ocean hugs the shore, hold me close, sway me more.
Like a flower bending in the breeze, bend with me, sway with ease.
When we dance you have a way with me, stay with me, sway with me.
Other dancers may be on the floor Dear, but my eyes will see only you.
Only you have the magic technique When we sway I go weak.
Michael Buble; Sway.

Wednesday, December 24, 2008, 3:22 AM

Regrets, I've had a few
But then again, too few to mention.
I did what I had to do
And saw it through without exemption.

I planned each charted course
Each careful step along the byway,
And more, much more than this,
I did it my way.

Yes, there were times, I'm sure you knew
When I bit off more than I could chew.
But through it all, when there was doubt,
I ate it up and spit it out
I faced it all and I stood tall
And did it my way.

I've loved, I've laughed and cried.
I've had my fill, my share of losing.
And now, as tears subside,
I find it all so amusing.

To think I did all that
And may I say - not in a shy way,
"Oh no, oh no not me,
I did it my way".

For what is a man, what has he got?
If not himself, then he has naught
To say the things he truly feels
And not the words of one who kneels.
The record shows I took the blows
And did it my way.