Hey!
Hundreds of stories, before I showed up
And they tell them to me
And pull photos up
And there I'm connected, like a pair of handcuffs
No one seemed affected, that everyone is fucked
But there was a softness a kind of understanding
Those 2am decisions, always shaky landings
And no one ever knew, what could be demanded
Maybe its the cards
The cards that she was handed
You call me up from a pay phone
I said, "hang tight, I can drive you home"
I pulled on up and with a southern accent
I offered you my Dad's leather jacket
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I met her at a party
She'd come straight from work
Complained that the regulars, were all a bunch of jerks
She always looked tired
She dazzled as a drunk
She even pulled off
The stupid hair cut
She said "I don't need a sponsor, or the best lover
Just a man that sees me as some fixer-upper
The last few years, man I've been running for cover
Trying to sleep
So I can visit my mother"
You call me up from a pay phone
I said, "hang tight, I can drive you home"
I pulled on up and with a southern accent
I offered you my Dad's leather jacket
Photos
When times were tough in the worst years
We never knew how to interfere
And now you're back, and just unpacking
Those bruised up takers, you keep attracting
In September
When he goes off
Like some god damn, alarm clock
And he hits her, like a third shot
Conversations, she just stares off
There's no longer a voice calling
When she goes out
Saying, "I'll be up waiting for you"
You call me up from a pay phone
I said, "hang tight, I can drive you home"
I pulled on up and with a southern accent
I offered you my Dad's leather jacket
When times were tough in the worst years
We never knew how to interfere
And now you're back, and just unpacking
Those bruised up takers, you keep attracting
You call me up from a pay phone And I said, "Who the fuck uses a pay phone?"
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Artist: Helene Fischer