"Highway" lyrics - INGRID MICHAELSON
INGRID MICHAELSON
"Highway"
On a highway along the Atlantic I'm rifling through these last seventeen 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.
Six pounds and seven 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.
I'm regretting letting you fly.
I'm regretting letting you fly.
On a highway.
On a highway.