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