Ingrid Michaelson - Highway - Sözleri

On a highway along the atlantic I'm rifling through these last 17 years.

The radio waxes romantic. It's 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.



6 pounds and 7 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.










		
			



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