Jason Isbell Stockholm
I've heard love songs make a Georgia man cry on the shoulder of somebody's Saturday night. Read the Good Book, studied it too but nothing prepared me for living with you.
Lock me up tight in these shackles I wear tied up the keys in the folds of your hair And the difference with me is I used to not care. Stockholm, let me go home.
Once a wise man to the ways of the world, now I've traded those lessons for faith in a girl. Crossed the ocean, thousand years from my home in this frozen old city of silver and stone.
Ships in the harbor and birds on the bluff, don't move an inch when their anchor goes up, And the difference with me is I'm falling in love. Stockholm, let me go home. Let me go home.
And the night, so long, I used to pray for the daylight to come. Folks back home surely have called off the search and gone back to their own.
Ships in the harbor and birds on the bluff don't move an inch when their anchor goes up. And the difference with me is I'm falling in love. Stockholm, let me go home. Let me go . Let me go home.
