Birmingham

[Verse 1]
I wish I was a painter, charcoal and buffalo
Or a presidential motorcade where the cops just come and go
Return me to the station, a bus and empty bag
Fall asleep watching the twister
In some broken down motel in Birmingham

[Verse 2]
'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 motel in Birmingham

[Verse 3]
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 restaurant
Bought her pretty clothes and diamonds
Like I was born to be her man
We were more than commentary for a cheap 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 wet with 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 motel in Birmingham