Alabaster - The Wood Brothers

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