The Crack Of His Door Songtext
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Driving for hours, down the interstate
We reached the top peninsula.
At a castle of rock,
The stairs reached up for hours.
An 8-year-old curled up with his pillow
Looking through the crack of his door.
His mom tilts her head back with a fingernail to her nose
She sniffs it up then does some more.
We reached the top peninsula.
At a castle of rock,
The stairs reached up for hours.
An 8-year-old curled up with his pillow
Looking through the crack of his door.
His mom tilts her head back with a fingernail to her nose
She sniffs it up then does some more.
As I leaned against the railing
I pictured falling to the pines below.
If only Paul and Babe would share their plots with my child frame.
I leaned in but my shirt was hitched
It stretched taught around my neck and chest.
A distant breeze on my back.
I leaned in but my shirt was hitched
And the view was spectacular.
An 8-year-old curled up with his pillow
Looking through the crack of his door.
His mom tilts her head back with a fingernail to her nose
She sniffs it up then does some more.
I pictured falling to the pines below.
If only Paul and Babe would share their plots with my child frame.
I leaned in but my shirt was hitched
It stretched taught around my neck and chest.
A distant breeze on my back.
I leaned in but my shirt was hitched
And the view was spectacular.
An 8-year-old curled up with his pillow
Looking through the crack of his door.
His mom tilts her head back with a fingernail to her nose
She sniffs it up then does some more.
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