Its midnight in Kentucky,
I hear a Timber wolf cry.
He sounds so lonesome in the night.
Down in the gorge,
I can hear the whistle blowing,
A freight train slowly passes by.
The wind begins to blow,
The pine trees sway,
They make a gentle sighing sound,
As the wind begins to blow.
The only other sound,
Within the cabin's walls,
Is the squeaking of the rocking chair,
And a young mother's voice that calls.

Somewhere in Kentucky,
Amid the swaying pines,
A young girl cries her heart out late at night.
She wished him dead,
A thousand times,
If only in her mind.
But as she holds her baby near,
Lord, she cannot find the time.
She points out of the window,
To the stars that shine on high;
She whispers to her baby,
Honey if only we could fly.
I would fly us far away from here,
And we would not look back.
We would live in a mansion,
Instead of this old shack.
I would surround you,
With trucks and cars,
A huge fenced in backyard,
And loving hands that are warm,
But never cold.
If only we could fly away,
Oh so far away,
So far away,
Away from here,
Yes, I would fly us far away.
So far away,
Away from here.
If only we could fly.
Her gaze turns from the window,
Back to the baby she holds near,
And through the falling tears,
A gentle smile now appears.
And as she rocks her child,
In that old rocking chair.
She whispers softly in his ear,
If we could only fly.