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Reba McEntire - Eight Crazy Hours |
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It was somethin' as simple |
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As makin' the bed |
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That kicked off the voice |
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Inside her head |
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She was smoothin' the sheet |
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With the palm of her hand |
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When the thought struck home |
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"I don't know who I am" |
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And she sat cross-legged |
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On the bedroom floor |
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And thought |
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There's 3 people in this house |
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That don't need me anymore |
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And she cried like a baby |
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In a pile of dirty clothes |
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Oh, should I be more care free |
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Should I be more sexy |
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Should I be more friend, than mom |
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And the dryer was buzzin' |
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And the TV was blarin' |
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And she wanted to call her mother |
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It was somethin' as simple |
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As checkin' in to that cheap motel |
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Out on Highway 10 |
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Was it the sting of leavin' |
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Or usin' her maiden name |
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That took all of the fun |
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Out of runnin' away |
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And she cried like a baby |
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In the tub of room 5 |
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Oh, should I be more care free |
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Should I be more sexy |
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Should I be more friend, than mom |
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And her head was buzzin' |
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And the TV was blarin' |
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And she wanted to call her husband |
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It was somethin' as simple |
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As pickin' up the kids |
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That her back to Earth again |
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She'd been to the dark side of the moon |
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She had to keep it to herself |
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So she grabbed Kentucky Fried Chicken |
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For supper |
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Oh, but she looked more care free |
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And she looked more sexy |
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And she looked more friend than mom |
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And the table talk was buzzin' |
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And the TV, it was blarin' |
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And they all sat and laughed at each other |
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It was somethin' as simple |
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As not givin' up |
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And eight crazy hours |
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In the story of love |
