Plane Lyrics - Mount Moriah - Mount Moriah

I fell for you in your attic 

Over the hum and grind of afternoon traffic 

We should be pleased to have shared the breeze or a bus 

Now you ask what was the fuss 

It was the tone of your letter 

And the fit of herringbone sweater 

You know it's true I would sell this shelf full of records 

For the right to your affection 

All these delays and transferred planes 

Oh, I would number days and time's own changes 

Another mountain range and I'm headed south again 

Back to the Blue Ridge and the red, red clay 

And I'd rather be resting in your arms 

Than this window seat where everything's clear and warm 

In the stratosphere and these heated chairs 

O'er the thin, thin, air I just wanna be down there