Lyrics Edwin McCain

Edwin McCain

How Strange It Seems

I'm a hack driver in New York City

I've got seven kids on the lower east side

I'm not a strong man, I'm not very pretty

But in rush hour hell you should see me drive

I'm a dressmaker in Louisiana

Stick my finger ain't that a shame

People come to haggle and paw on my artwork

But no two of my dresses are ever the same

How strange it seems to be me

If tomorrow I opened my eyes

And found myself somewhere else

I wonder who I'd be

I'm the house man at a place called the exit

The last band I heard bored me to tears

But every so often I hear one that moves me

Love for the music is what keeps me here

How strange it seems to be me

If tomorrow I opened my eyes

And found myself somewhere else

I wonder who I'd be

I'm a rich man

I ain't talking 'bout money

I'm a blues singer at the Eight by Ten

You go out searching for some grand tomorrow

Don't worry 'bout me just drop by now and then

How strange it seems to be me

If tomorrow I opened my eyes

And found myself somewhere else

I wonder who I'd be