Highway Ingrid Michaelson

On a highway along the Atlantic
I'm rifling through these last 17 years
The radio waxes romantic
Its lullabies fill our eyes with tears

[Chorus]
We don't say a word
There's nothing to say that hasn't been heard
And how you've grown my little bird
I'm regretting letting you fly

6 pounds and 7 ounces
A ball of bones and flesh and tears were you
Now your hands, your tiny pink hands
Grew larger than my hands ever grew

[Chorus]

On a highway
On a highway