Pile of postcards across the front yard
All of ’em worried you didn’t need the same
It’s gettin cold
We’re gettin older
If I sound hurried, I ain’t running away
I’m only chasing
The paper on the pavement, playing country tunes
Bracing, bracing for the pain I don’t see coming soon
Tell me about your day while I lay on top of you
Or sit across from you
I’m hard to watch I know I lost my touch
Cut my hair and then it never grew
Took a Greyhound, then I was southbound
Georgia on my mind right next to you
Round New Jersey I was getting wordy
I’ll send a bird to sing “I love you, too”
Wait a week some
You know I’ll see you, hon
But I better get there bеfore these papеrs do
It’s always raining
Like the song we love that’s double both our ages
Changing like the seasons and their reasons not for staying long
Like the wind, and the tide
Baby you and I can meet in Macon
Get to shakin
Our records playin
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Shallow Alcove Lyrics – Macon