When The Sun Goes Down
Momma says God'll build us a house
and it'll be made of gold
and the windows'll be spun from diamonds
and its walls'll never fold.
It'll shine on a clear horizon-
the kinda place you'd think the sky's in
and we'll have pretty white curtains that let the sun through.
She says, 'Baby, I ain't cryin' and I don't want you to.'