Baby I was there for every second, I made your little bed, I washed your little head, I made what you were fed but now I walk the empty floors, looking through these empty drawers and everybody knows it’s you I’m looking for If I knew then what i know now then love would not have lived and I could have gotten out.
Bring me your report card I want to read it again while I put you empty clothes into an empty bin I can hardly make it through my gin without crying a river and wanted it to end.
Jesus is love. Sent from above . But I like the wine and love making passes the time but it ain't you-your little hands , your precious eyes, your growing feet, feeling’ the heat, walking away from me
It ain’t me my baby love that conjures up above and captures the secret stone that makes everybody Love and I hope you don’t miss me as much as I miss you, cause my heart is always broken and I don’t you to feel the way I do. We’re born and we die alone but until then I want you home and every night you’ll be be under the stars with me.
If I seem sad, it’s because I am.
Bring me your report I wanna read it again while I put your empty clothes into and empty bin I can hardy make it through my gin without crying a river and wanting it to end.
Writer/s: Martha Wainwright
Publisher: Kobalt Music Publishing Ltd.
Lyrics licensed and provided by LyricFind
"Friends In Low Places" by Garth Brooks was written by two Nashville songwriters after a meal in a local restaurant. One of them forgot his money, but said not to worry, "I have friends in low places. I know the cook."