Heart on My Arm

And she's found her home down in Mississippi. There somewhere outside Tupelo.

She spends her Christmas on the beach while I spend mine alone.

And that white farmhouse that we always dreamt about, man, you can see

her glow. This Miller Lite is the only thing that shines in my Winnebago.

There was a time when we used to be us. Sitting in the

bed of my Ford. Counting stars and drawing hearts in the dust

on the dashboard. Forever wasn't just a wish that we hoped would come true.

Now the only heart still intact is the one around her name in this tattoo.