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Kill County - brown lee
04:56
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The gravel spur off the 83 line, the road that leads out to Brownlee.
It's straight and flat, there's some old cat tracks
You're in Cherry county now son.
The South and it's grandeur ain't never been my land, no sir.
The Sand and rain, old pine and lead pane
The store fronts bowed and broken down.
There's a river here, and it leads somewhere,
But it doesn't matter much where son.
Because the waves out past the loam, they've never been my home.
Your granddad made his way to this land
In a black, 38 Ford.
Back in those days this was a better place
Than what you see here today.
It's just grey dust and bones, Red rust and headstones
My son, if you pray, pray alone,
you'll be the only one.
The only one.
It ain't much, just heard hearts, sand and such.
But it's alright, everyday turns to night.
This land ain't dying, but she's a little tired of the times of trying to lay her low,
but these roots run deeper than you know.
Take my feet, lay them in the stream,
Put my voice on the wind.
Hold my hands, press them in the sand,
Give my heart to the grassland.
'Cause I was never one for these city streets my son,
And if you pray, pray alone.
You'll be the only one.
The only one.
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