| Behind the wheel of a yellow cab
|
| On the outskirts of Birmingham
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| He dreams of a traffic jam
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| In Manhattan
|
| Below the city in a subway car
|
| She feels just like a shooting star
|
| Never thought she could get so far
|
| From her old man
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| The last phonebooth in New York City
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| Ringing all day, calling somebody home
|
| She doesn’t answer, she walks faster
|
| She won’t be going back to Alabaster
|
| She won’t be going back
|
| She won’t be going back to Alabaster
|
| Thousand miles away, she still feels it
|
| Scrape of his chin, bruise on her spirit
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| The phone is calling but she won’t get near it
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| Ever again
|
| Steps on the gas just to harness the anger
|
| Last thing he do is try to understand her
|
| Stuck in time like a fly in the amber
|
| And he never transcends
|
| The last phonebooth in New York City
|
| Ringing all day, calling somebody home
|
| She doesn’t answer, she walks faster
|
| She won’t be going back to Alabaster
|
| She won’t be going back (yeah)
|
| She won’t be going back to Alabaster
|
| Time passes, distance grows wider
|
| Dark features brighter and brighter
|
| She’s got a new heart beating inside her
|
| And she’s her own master
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| She won’t be going back (she's her own master)
|
| She won’t be going back (she's her own master)
|
| The last phonebooth in New York City
|
| Ringing all day, calling somebody home
|
| She doesn’t answer, she walks faster
|
| The last phonebooth in New York City
|
| Ringing all day, calling somebody home
|
| She doesn’t answer, she walks faster
|
| She won’t be going back to Alabaster
|
| Yeah, she won’t be going back
|
| She won’t be going back to Alabaster
|
| She won’t be going back
|
| She won’t be going back to Alabaster
|
| She won’t be going back
|
| She won’t be going back to Alabaster |