| She woke up
|
| Singin' this mornin'
|
| And calling me her man
|
| There was a crack in the clouds
|
| And the sun shifted over
|
| It bathed our heads
|
| And our hands
|
| And most days
|
| I just start walkin'
|
| And my head
|
| Goes down
|
| For I know which way the wind blows
|
| Through this town
|
| Yeah I know which way the wind blows
|
| And I know your place is headin' far
|
| Yeah I know which way the wind blows
|
| Back to the door
|
| There’s a sweet smell comin' from the bakery
|
| But the child in me sleeps so soundly
|
| For there’s sourness that I crave
|
| And I go far
|
| I know that door
|
| The softness of my lover’s hands
|
| Gently pushes me out in the street again
|
| For she knows which way the wind blows
|
| And how it’s useless fighting against that wind
|
| Yeah I know which way the wind blows
|
| It blows me back to her
|
| Yeah I know which way the wind blows
|
| And how it turns me around
|
| Yeah I know which way the wind blows
|
| It blows me down onto my knees
|
| Yeah I know which way the wind blows
|
| Back to her feet on my knees |