Piece of Americana

A piece of Americana that you couldn't get
So you settle for the silence
Sitting inside my head

Baby boy
Don't make me choose
You know not what I'll do
The skies opened
We felt cleansed for a moment or two

That summer he found the open highway
Bought new clothes and headed west
The blood stained sand
Soaked the palm of his hand
Exit gently from the nest

Baby girl
Don't make me choose
You know not what I'll do
The skies unlike her eyes
The thirst will cut right through



Credits
Writer(s): Conor Christopher
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com

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