So there's hundreds of auburn alabama acres
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with rows of red roofs over warm farmers daughters
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who've got no intention of inviting me in
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space shines all above me so i settle myself under it.
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when i wake up i'm back in my crowded city apartment
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some random men doing work off in the kitchen
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stacking mattresses up now to the ceiling and down to the floor.
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my fathers sick in the hallway i hear him whistlin under the door.
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i rush to lift him but you all know i am weak and you know that he is heavy.
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there's no blood in his cheeks but he's smiling straight at me.
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i ask the thickest of the workers 'would you please come and help me out?'
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he comes ambling over and says 'sir, i love how your whistling sounds'
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so now i drag him through the kitchen to the living room and down on the carpet
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he says, 'son i'm embarassed, but the sides of my head hurt.
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i just know that i'm tired and i could surely use some rest.'
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i tear a mattress down for him and i say, 'here dad sleep some on this.'
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i wake for real and it's over.
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i'm alone in acres and my dad is still dead.
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but if you underneath one of those rooftops, look out your window and invite me on in.
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'cause it's cold and i'm lonely and i could sure use a friend
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yeah it's cold and i'm lonely and i could sure use a friend.
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it's cold and i'm lonely and i could sure use a friend yeah
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Alabama Acres
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| Kevin Devine |
