Song | She Knows Her Way |
Artist | Big D and the Kids Table |
Album | Strictly Rude |
Download | Image LRC TXT |
She only heads out when it’s late and dark | |
No need to worry, she’s smooth, she’s smart | |
I’ll see her later ‘cause we can’t be apart | |
You tell me my girls trouble, yes, you tell me my girls trouble, ‘cause she | |
Falls, gets back up, stumbles round, spins around, then just | |
Falls, gets back up, stumbles round, spins around | |
She melts into the night in her own rude way | |
Blown into the party like a warm hurricane – she says “ | |
It’s nice to be | |
Drunk from love” | |
She knows she’s floating, but she can’t never get enough | |
Sings your name | |
Her word is art | |
Her chest’s a window, so you can always see her heart | |
Her chest’s a window, so you can always see her heart | |
Wayfaring drunkard dancing home, well she departs | |
But she knows her way back home | |
Sings to a branch that she passes on her way | |
Dances for a little sleepy pleased stray | |
Talks to a crow she’s named a | |
Mr. Blue Jay | |
I’ll tell you my girl’s wonders, yes, | |
I’ll tell you my girl’s wonders | |
She’s walking staring upward, staring upward, singing something | |
Kinda feeling like a devil on her way up to the heavens | |
She likes long, drawn, | |
French songs | |
Stops to sit | |
The sidewalk | |
Bass is low, she sings a | |
Ms. Bardot song | |
Space is high, she yawns and rubs her eyes | |
Then she calls me on her tele, just to tell me ‘bout | |
A spider she finds pretty, a red polka-dotted spider | |
Police drive by and see her talking to the stars | |
Police have her put her hands on the car “ | |
Where are you heading, | |
Ms.?” “76 | |
Franklin, see that’s where my baby lives” | |
Here I sit | |
My porch stairs | |
I breathe and squint | |
My cat sits by me | |
Way down the street | |
I see my girl, she floats, yes, and dances slowly to me | |
Sits on me, hugging, both quiet in the dark | |
Whispering, ’cause it’s a direct line to the heart | |
There is no distance that is keeping us apart | |
You tell me my girl’s trouble, but you just don’t know her wonders | |
And the waiting, whoa-oh | |
Yes, the love of waiting, whoa-oh | |
Yes, the love of waiting, whoa-oh | |
Yes, my love of waiting | |
For her |
She only heads out when it' s late and dark | |
No need to worry, she' s smooth, she' s smart | |
I' ll see her later ' cause we can' t be apart | |
You tell me my girls trouble, yes, you tell me my girls trouble, ' cause she | |
Falls, gets back up, stumbles round, spins around, then just | |
Falls, gets back up, stumbles round, spins around | |
She melts into the night in her own rude way | |
Blown into the party like a warm hurricane she says " | |
It' s nice to be | |
Drunk from love" | |
She knows she' s floating, but she can' t never get enough | |
Sings your name | |
Her word is art | |
Her chest' s a window, so you can always see her heart | |
Her chest' s a window, so you can always see her heart | |
Wayfaring drunkard dancing home, well she departs | |
But she knows her way back home | |
Sings to a branch that she passes on her way | |
Dances for a little sleepy pleased stray | |
Talks to a crow she' s named a | |
Mr. Blue Jay | |
I' ll tell you my girl' s wonders, yes, | |
I' ll tell you my girl' s wonders | |
She' s walking staring upward, staring upward, singing something | |
Kinda feeling like a devil on her way up to the heavens | |
She likes long, drawn, | |
French songs | |
Stops to sit | |
The sidewalk | |
Bass is low, she sings a | |
Ms. Bardot song | |
Space is high, she yawns and rubs her eyes | |
Then she calls me on her tele, just to tell me ' bout | |
A spider she finds pretty, a red polkadotted spider | |
Police drive by and see her talking to the stars | |
Police have her put her hands on the car " | |
Where are you heading, | |
Ms.?" " 76 | |
Franklin, see that' s where my baby lives" | |
Here I sit | |
My porch stairs | |
I breathe and squint | |
My cat sits by me | |
Way down the street | |
I see my girl, she floats, yes, and dances slowly to me | |
Sits on me, hugging, both quiet in the dark | |
Whispering, ' cause it' s a direct line to the heart | |
There is no distance that is keeping us apart | |
You tell me my girl' s trouble, but you just don' t know her wonders | |
And the waiting, whoaoh | |
Yes, the love of waiting, whoaoh | |
Yes, the love of waiting, whoaoh | |
Yes, my love of waiting | |
For her |
She only heads out when it' s late and dark | |
No need to worry, she' s smooth, she' s smart | |
I' ll see her later ' cause we can' t be apart | |
You tell me my girls trouble, yes, you tell me my girls trouble, ' cause she | |
Falls, gets back up, stumbles round, spins around, then just | |
Falls, gets back up, stumbles round, spins around | |
She melts into the night in her own rude way | |
Blown into the party like a warm hurricane she says " | |
It' s nice to be | |
Drunk from love" | |
She knows she' s floating, but she can' t never get enough | |
Sings your name | |
Her word is art | |
Her chest' s a window, so you can always see her heart | |
Her chest' s a window, so you can always see her heart | |
Wayfaring drunkard dancing home, well she departs | |
But she knows her way back home | |
Sings to a branch that she passes on her way | |
Dances for a little sleepy pleased stray | |
Talks to a crow she' s named a | |
Mr. Blue Jay | |
I' ll tell you my girl' s wonders, yes, | |
I' ll tell you my girl' s wonders | |
She' s walking staring upward, staring upward, singing something | |
Kinda feeling like a devil on her way up to the heavens | |
She likes long, drawn, | |
French songs | |
Stops to sit | |
The sidewalk | |
Bass is low, she sings a | |
Ms. Bardot song | |
Space is high, she yawns and rubs her eyes | |
Then she calls me on her tele, just to tell me ' bout | |
A spider she finds pretty, a red polkadotted spider | |
Police drive by and see her talking to the stars | |
Police have her put her hands on the car " | |
Where are you heading, | |
Ms.?" " 76 | |
Franklin, see that' s where my baby lives" | |
Here I sit | |
My porch stairs | |
I breathe and squint | |
My cat sits by me | |
Way down the street | |
I see my girl, she floats, yes, and dances slowly to me | |
Sits on me, hugging, both quiet in the dark | |
Whispering, ' cause it' s a direct line to the heart | |
There is no distance that is keeping us apart | |
You tell me my girl' s trouble, but you just don' t know her wonders | |
And the waiting, whoaoh | |
Yes, the love of waiting, whoaoh | |
Yes, the love of waiting, whoaoh | |
Yes, my love of waiting | |
For her |