I wish I was a painter Charcoal and Buffalo Or a presidential motorcade Where the cops just come and go
Return me to the station A box and empty bag Fall asleep watching the twister In some broken down hotel in Birmingham
'Cause I wish I was a calendar Numbers and good names Variating slightly But only the pictures ever change
Mark me and return to sender I'm like a letter without a stamp I wasn't written to be read And I am sleepless in this bed In some broken down hotel in Birmingham
Held her hand in Old Savannah Marigold print on her dress Her hair was combed and parted Like a beautiful princess
I didn't see you at the altar Way back then you were so drunk You were washed up on some hooker's bed Behind a shitty restaurant
Bought her pretty clothes and diamonds The guy was born to be her man We were more than commentary For a cheap headline grab
So when the wind blows in your window 'Cause the storm don't give a damn Pray the window don't break Across the wrist of your writing hand
On a stationary you wept with tears Of the people's backs you stab When you're hiding like a robber With no one's purse to grab
Remember me standing there holding out my hand In a broken down hotel in BirminghamTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
