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Oito Horas Malucas (Na História do Amor)

Reba McEntire

Eight Crazy Hours (In The Story of Love)

It was somethin' as simple
As makin' the bed
That kicked off the voice
Inside her head
She was smoothin' the sheet
With the palm of her hand
When the thought struck home
"I don't know who I am"

And she sat cross-legged
On the bedroom floor
And thought
There's 3 people in this house
That don't need me anymore
And she cried like a baby
In a pile of dirty clothes

Oh, should I be more care free
Should I be more sexy
Should I be more friend, than mom
And the dryer was buzzin'
And the TV was blarin'
And she wanted to call her mother

It was somethin' as simple
As checkin' in to that cheap motel
Out on Highway 10
Was it the sting of leavin'
Or usin' her maiden name
That took all of the fun
Out of runnin' away
And she cried like a baby
In the tub of room 5

Oh, should I be more care free
Should I be more sexy
Should I be more friend, than mom
And her head was buzzin'
And the TV was blarin'
And she wanted to call her husband

It was somethin' as simple
As pickin' up the kids
That her back to Earth again
She'd been to the dark side of the moon
She had to keep it to herself
So she grabbed Kentucky Fried Chicken
For supper

Oh, but she looked more care free
And she looked more sexy
And she looked more friend than mom
And the table talk was buzzin'
And the TV, it was blarin'
And they all sat and laughed at each other

It was somethin' as simple
As not givin' up
And eight crazy hours
In the story of love

Oito Horas Malucas (Na História do Amor)

Era algo tão simples
Como arrumar a cama
Que deu início à voz
Dentro da cabeça dela
Ela alisava o lençol
Com a palma da mão
Quando o pensamento bateu
"Eu não sei quem eu sou"

E ela sentou de pernas cruzadas
No chão do quarto
E pensou
Tem 3 pessoas nessa casa
Que não precisam mais de mim
E ela chorou como um bebê
Em um monte de roupas sujas

Oh, eu deveria ser mais despreocupada
Deveria ser mais sexy
Deveria ser mais amiga do que mãe
E a secadora zumbia
E a TV estava alta
E ela queria ligar pra mãe

Era algo tão simples
Como fazer check-in naquele motel barato
Na Rodovia 10
Era a dor de partir
Ou usar seu sobrenome de solteira
Que tirou toda a diversão
De fugir
E ela chorou como um bebê
Na banheira do quarto 5

Oh, eu deveria ser mais despreocupada
Deveria ser mais sexy
Deveria ser mais amiga do que mãe
E a cabeça dela zumbia
E a TV estava alta
E ela queria ligar pro marido

Era algo tão simples
Como pegar as crianças
Que a trouxe de volta à Terra de novo
Ela tinha ido ao lado escuro da lua
Ela teve que guardar pra si
Então pegou um frango frito
Pra o jantar

Oh, mas ela parecia mais despreocupada
E parecia mais sexy
E parecia mais amiga do que mãe
E a conversa na mesa zumbia
E a TV, estava alta
E todos riam uns dos outros

Era algo tão simples
Como não desistir
E oito horas malucas
Na história do amor

Composição: Darrell Scott / Leslie Satcher