We wandered led by the gods You gave a voice Uîdluiā of the Allobroges Your feet danced In the footprints of the Otherworld The words of your songs Carved into our hearts

Oh, do you care, I still feel for you So aware, what should be lost is there All of my songs can only be composed of The greatest of pains Every single verse can only be born of The greatest of wishes I wish I had one more night to live Beware the beast

Sweet home Alabama Where the skies are so blue Lord, I'm coming home to you Big wheels keep on turning Carry me home to see my kin Singing songs about the south-land I miss 'ole' 'bamy once again and I think it's a sin Well I heard Mister Young sing

'you should learn to speak a little bit of english Bits of songs and broken drums Are all he could recall Don't be scared of a suit and tie. Learn to walk in the dreams of the foreigner -- I am a third world child So he spoke to me

Sweet home Alabama Where the skies are so blue Lord, I'm coming home to you Big wheels keep on turning Carry me home to see my kin Singing songs about the south-land I miss 'ole' 'bamy once again And I think it's a sin Well I heard Mister Young sing

No more! (Sad songs) I'm beggin', please, don't play No more sad songs For tonight, I'm going to get my mind off it Don't care that someone's got his hands all over my body Stay out all night, go where the music's loud So I don't have to think about it,

Sweet home Alabama Where the skies are so blue Lord, I'm coming home to you Alabama, ah ah ah Big wheels keep on turning Carry me home to see my kin Singing songs about the Southland

Whoa oh, we're so miserable and stunning Whoa oh, love songs for the genuinely cunning Whoa oh, love songs for the genuinely cunning, whoa-oh We take sour sips from life's lush lips And we shake, shake, shake the hips in relationships Stomp out this

Sweet home Alabama Where the skies are so blue Lord, I'm coming home to you Big wheels keep on turning Carry me home to see my kin Singing songs about the south-land I miss 'ole' 'bamy once again And I think it's a sin Well I heard Mister Young sing

I know about popular You're only ever who you were It's not about who you are or your fancy car So catch up, 'cause you got an awful long way to go My problem, I never was a model, I never was a scholar, You were singing, all the songs I don't know