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Don’t know the feeling of seeing the grass grow green
Grew up learning crooked letters, humpbacks, and umpteen
Not a typical childhood even seen the clouds sing the Blues
On dirt roads bare feet, any day, everyone ran out of shoes
Summertime heat burned as it reflected off Trailer park tin
Family history is rich but distorted when everyone kissing kin
To look out in all fields and see yellow corn and white cotton
Spirit of Dixie lives, constant reminder racism is not forgotten
This was home, despite the fact it was labeled shotgun or shack
No front porch to clean the fish simply drop the tailgate out back
Wiping dust from the face, still need the Box fans to sit inside
Drinking sweet tea with extra sugar and everything is southern fried
Neighbors are known by more than name, just watch the walks
Country drawl, it’s not slang, slow enough to understand who talks
From Delta flats along the river, down to the swamps and piney hills
Beautiful sunshine fighting mosquitoes with no chance of snow to chill
If the truth be told, this place would be gold; it’s enough to go around
In bed early to get on the square after hearing, We Going to town..
