Yesterday you came to lift me up As light as straw and brittle as a bird Today I weigh less than a shadow on the wall Just one more whisper of a voice unheard Tomorrow leave the windows open As fear grows please hold me in your arms Won't you help me if

I have, I hold the key, to nothing, it's a small Murder, murders in the hands, of motion, as It seems to be No more doors No more locks No more windows No more box

This is a place that I call my home Where the doors are moaning all day long, Where the stairs are leaning dusk 'till dawn, Where the windows are breathing in the light, Where the rooms are a collection of our lives, This is a place where I don't feel

I'll be with you from dusk till dawn Baby, I'm right here Go, give love to your body But you'll never be alone I'll hold you when things go wrong It's only you that can stop it Can you feel it through All of the windows Inside this room

We went to the beach And we went to the beach Every year, the middle of June We crammed into that Astro van Tighter than a can of sardines We fought in the back And dad got mad And mama rolled the windows down "Y'all smell the salt of the beach?"

Work in a little sunshine overtime Checking on out of that nine to five Sandy streets and the windows down Hair free in the breeze getting all unwound Jump in the water go weekend wild Get wrapped up in an old beach towel Break out tequila salt and the

Now we're listenin' to old Alabama A little dixieland delight and it feels so right Oh, play me some old Alabama She'd rather wear a pair of cut-off jeans Than a fancy evening dress And with her windows rolled down And her hair all blown around She's a

Well, I ride on a mail train, baby, can't buy a thrill Well, I been up all night leanin' on the windowsill Well, if I die on top of the hill And if I don't make it, you know my baby will Don't the moon look good, mama, shinin' through the trees Don't the

Do we really know the way the wind blows? (Wind blows) Off in my head, lost off in my head Off in the red, dance, dance with the dead Are we really safe around our shadows? (Shadows) Through our windows Ooh, aw man, I can't believe this is happening (Ah

Now we're listenin' to old Alabama A little dixieland delight and it feels so right Oh, play me some old Alabama She'd rather wear a pair of cut-off jeans Than a fancy evening dress And with her windows rolled down And her hair all blown around She's a