Birmingham Testo
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Testo Birmingham
I wish I was a painter
Charcoal and [?]
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 '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 restaurants
Bought her pretty clothes and diamonds
The guy was born to be her man
We were more than commentary
For a [?] 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 [?]
With the tears of the peoples 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 Birmingham
Charcoal and [?]
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
Numbers and good names
Variating slightly
But only the pictures ever change
Mark me '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 restaurants
Bought her pretty clothes and diamonds
The guy was born to be her man
We were more than commentary
For a [?] 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 [?]
With the tears of the peoples 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 Birmingham
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