“If I could be the reason your hair’s a mess,
The bass drum beatin way down deep in your chest,
If I could be the voice on your radio,
Then I could be your long ride home.
If mine could be the name that changes yours,
The wine in your glass,
The swing on your porch,
The dollar in your pocket,
And the peaceful in your sleep,
Then I’d be what you mean to me.
Turning every head in this crowded room,
The lights down low,
Oh, if falling’s how you feel,
And perfect is what you see,
Then I’d be what you mean to me…” Brett Eldredge