Alabaster

Behind the wheel of a yellow cab On the outskirts of Birmingham He dreams of a traffic jam 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 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 She won't be going back to Alabaster Thousand miles away, she still feels it Scrape of his chin, bruise on her spirit The phone is calling but she won't get near it 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 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