Tekst:
Whitney Duncan Whitney Duncan

You think about it all you want, Fidel with it like a rubix cube. Plan it out like a cross country drive, there's a reason they say love is cruel.

Better get the matches Better get some gasoline I'm tearin' up the pictures In our book of memories And gather 'em up Into a pile on the floor We don

Oh, honey, what's wrong with you? You sit around whine and cry the blues You ain't got no arms to fall into What you did to me, I'm doing back to you

Rome wasn't built in a day It didn't happen overnight The stars didn't get to shine that way Just by turnin' on the lights And I'm not any different

Oh, yeah Ripped jeans, a blue eyes I knew right away I was in trouble that night Tattoos, he don't shave Makes a good little girl wanna misbehave I

Give me a map, give me a road Take me upon the winds that blow The fields of dust, the fields of gold I've seen how finest colors fade The music go to

Dirt road in his old truck Lined with honeysuckles Down that old beach bend Saw the water through the trees and the way he looked at me With that

Give me a map Give me a road Take me apart The winds that blow Through fields of dust Through fields of gold I've seen our finest colors fade From years

Oh Yeah Ripped jeans Blue eyes I knew right away I was in trouble tonight Tattoos He don't shave Makes the little girl wanna misbehave I won't be taken