Highway

On a highway along the Atlantic

I'm rifling through these last seventeen years

The radio waxes romantic

It's lullabies fill our eyes with tears

We don't say a word

There's nothing to say that hasn't been heard

And how you've grown my little bird

I'm regretting letting you fly

Six pounds and seven ounces

A ball of bones and flesh and tears were you

Now your hands, your tiny pink hands

Grew larger than my hands ever grew

We don't say a word

There's nothing to say that hasn't been heard

And how you've, how you've grown my little bird

I'm regretting letting you fly

I'm regretting letting you fly

I'm regretting letting you fly

On a highway, on a highway