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