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Ingrid Michaelson - Highway

Highway
Ingrid Michaelson
03:50
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Текст песни

On a highway along the Atlantic
I'm rifling through these last 17 years.
The radio waxes romantic.
Its lullabies fill our eyes with tears.

We don't say a word.
There's nothing to say that hasn't been heard.
And how you've grown my little bird.
I'm regretting letting you fly.

6 pounds and 7 ounces.
A ball of bones and flesh and tears were you.
Now your hands, your tiny pink hands,
Grew larger than my hands ever grew.

We don't say a word.
There's nothing to say that hasn't been heard.
And how you've grown my little bird.
I'm regretting letting you fly [3x]

On a highway. On a highway.

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