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Kill County
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Brownlee
The gravel spur off the 83 line, the one that leads out to Brownlee
It's straight and flat, and there's some old cat tracks
You're in Cherry county now son
The south and her grandeur ain't never been my land, no sir
Sand and rain, old pine and lead pane
Stoorfronts bowed and broken down
There's a river here, and she leads somewhere
But it don't matter much where son
'Cause the waves out past the loam, they've never been my home
Your granddad, he made his way to this land
He had a black 38 Ford
Back in those days, this was a better place than what you see here today
Now just grey dust and bones, red rust and head stones
My son, if you pray, pray alone
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You'll be the only one
It ain't much, but hard hearts, sand and such
It's alright, every day turns to night
This land ain't dyin', but she's a little tired of the times of tryin'
To lay her low, but these roots run deeper than you know
Take my feet, lay them in the stream
Put my voice to the wind
Hold my hands, press them in the sand
Give my heart to the grasslands
I was never one, for these city streets my son
And if you pray, pray alone
You'll be the only one
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