Opinion of the preceding song lyrics

[Ban my account ffs!]

Whiny


You are my sunshine,
My only sunshine
You make me happy
When skies are gray.
If you only knew, dear,
How much I love you;
Please don't take my sunshine away!

[Ban my account ffs!]

Again.. whiny.  The song could be shortened to the following, and get the same point across:

"I'm just like every other 22 year old, except I write songs about it in an effort to make money off of other 22 year olds.  I wear make up."

O Fortuna
velut luna
statu variabilis,
semper crescis
aut decrescis;
vita detestabilis
nunc obdurat
et tunc curat
ludo mentis aciem,
egestatem,
potestatem
dissolvit ut glaciem.

Sors immanis
et inanis,
rota tu volubilis,
status malus,
vana salus
semper dissolubilis,
obumbrata
et velata
michi quoque niteris;
nunc per ludum
dorsum nudum
fero tui sceleris.

Sors salutis
et virtutis
michi nunc contraria,
est affectus
et defectus
semper in angaria.
Hac in hora
sine mora
corde pulsum tangite
quod per sortem
sternit fortem,
mecum omnes plangite

[Ban my account ffs!]

Well, I do say, 14 inches is a bit short for a snake, isn't it?  What kind is it?  A Gardner Snake?

Here's a song my sister made for our cat:

Orange Fur
Pink Skin
Freckled Face
Finnigan

[Ban my account ffs!]

It's not your fault.  It's not your fault.  It's not your fault.  It's not your fault.

Oh, and in this case, "verlassen" would be better translated as "Why did you leave me?"

Riding on the City of New Orleans,
Illinois Central Monday morning rail
Fifteen cars and fifteen restless riders,
Three conductors and twenty-five sacks of mail.
All along the southbound odyssey
The train pulls out at Kankakee
Rolls along past houses, farms and fields.
Passin' trains that have no names,
Freight yards full of old black men
And the graveyards of the rusted automobiles.

CHORUS:
Good morning America how are you?
Don't you know me I'm your native son,
I'm the train they call The City of New Orleans,
I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done.

Dealin' card games with the old men in the club car.
Penny a point ain't no one keepin' score.
Pass the paper bag that holds the bottle
Feel the wheels rumblin' 'neath the floor.
And the sons of pullman porters
And the sons of engineers
Ride their father's magic carpets made of steel.
Mothers with their babes asleep,
Are rockin' to the gentle beat
And the rhythm of the rails is all they feel.

CHORUS

Nighttime on The City of New Orleans,
Changing cars in Memphis, Tennessee.
Half way home, we'll be there by morning
Through the Mississippi darkness
Rolling down to the sea.
And all the towns and people seem
To fade into a bad dream
And the steel rails still ain't heard the news.
The conductor sings his song again,
The passengers will please refrain
This train's got the disappearing railroad blues.

Good night, America, how are you?
Don't you know me I'm your native son,
I'm the train they call The City of New Orleans,
I'll be gone five hundred miles when the day is done.