Most Days

She was a hummingbird’s song
She fluttered her wings but she would not come in I threw my weight at the door
But she held her ground and she would not give in Some days I’m better than most
Most days I’m tied to the post
What’s so bad in being bad?
Bad is bad, and boy, that’s a fact
She said she was born a traveler
I said I knew as she ran out the door
Our love is like old money
Somewhere out there, somewhere out in the past
She was a hummingbird’s song
She fluttered and danced but she would not come in Though I don’t think of her daily
I praise the Lord that I never made it Most days I’m better than most
Some days I’m tied to the post
What’s so bad in being bad?
Well, bad is bad, and boy, that’s a fact
Some days I’m better than most
Most days I’m tied to the post
She said she was born a traveler
And I said I knew as she ran out the door
I said, «I won’t you let you go, girl»
She said, «Boy, you know you’re just clutching at straws»
She was a hummingbird’s song
She fluttered her wings but she would not come in I threw my weight at the door
But she held her ground and she would not come in Most days I’m better than most
Some days I’m tied to the post
Yeah, most days I’m better than most
Most days I’m tied to the post