Thunder was falling around my house, Hiding in the bedroom, I was too scared to come out. Were it not for true love and that fire on the hill. I would have never left that bedroom, I'd be cowering there still. It might be love. It might not be. At the petrol station, when I whispered in your ear. "Baby I'm your ticket, let us get the hell on out of here. "It was not the time," you said, "nor would it ever be. When we could get it all worked out and you'd be good to me." It might be love, It might not be. But I'm sure enough, Something got a hold, Something got a hold on me. It might never happen, maybe one time in your life, Hit you like a freight train, cut you like a knife. I can not get over, thia wound will never mend. Every timeI see your blue eyes, it all starts again. It might be the whiskey, it might be the moon, It might be the heat of the night around the middle of June. I cannot tell you, nor do I really care, It is just everywhere I turn, I see you standing there.