I moved into this room If you could call it that, a week ago I never do what I'm supposed to do I hardly even know my name anymore When no one calls it out, it kinda vanishes away
I can't get to sleep at night The parking lot's so loud and bright The a. c. hasn't worked in twenty years Probably never made a single person cold But I can't say the same for me. I've done it many times
Somebody take me home through those alabama pines
You can't drive through talladega On a weekend in october Head up north to jacksonville. cut around and over Watch your speed in boiling springs They ain't got a thing to do. they'll get you every time
Somebody take me home through those alabama pines Somebody take me home through those alabama pines
If we pass through on a sunday Better make a stop at wayne's It's the only open liquor store north And I can't stand the pain Of being by myself without a little help On a sunday afternoon
I needed that damn woman like a dream needs gasoline I tried to be some ancient kind of man One that's never seen the beauty in the world But I tried to chase it down Tried to make the whole thing mine
Somebody take me home through those alabama pines Somebody take me home through those alabama pines
I've been stuck here in this town If you could call it that, a year or two I never do what I'm supposed to do I don't even need a name anymore When no one calls it out, it kinda vanishes away
No one gives a damn About the things I give a damn about The liberties that we can't do without seem to disappear Like ghosts in the air When we don't even care, it truly vanishes away
Compositor: Michael Jason Isbell (BMI)Editores: Fame Music Publishing (BMI), Southeastern Publishing LLCAdministração: Downtown Dmp Songs (BMI)ECAD verificado obra #8385941 em 08/Abr/2024 com dados da UBEM