I wear a cowboy hat to express my identity, from war sick tears it constitutes concealment
farm life once known attests to my serenity, words spoken freely missing my southern accent
stolen from them in the city mornings, is the sound that rosters crow,
aliens claiming entitlement, not determined by the seeds that they sow
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internal of the country mind hospitality is never to be determined by a dollar
help wanted never required currency if mama needed assistance she'd holler
discipline within these city creatures something not determinedly held dear
muddled morals as well as influenced integrity the way their actions appear
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penalization for lost integrity was measured off branches from an old oak tree
morals always kept close to my heart instilled in the back woods of Tennessee
life in the back woods with ideals far from left behind, where things broken received valiant effort to fix
themes of loyalty where city folk feel too confined, never misplaced yet unspoken out yonder in the sticks
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we never had a lot to live off but we made a fine living off the land
real love no matter how it's showed is worth more then any name brand
Tennessee walking horses, Jack Daniels, fighting roosters, nervous goats and coon hounds
now and forever the center of memories and love that the pain of war now condescendingly surrounds
