A Free, Roving Mind

I'm a late bloomer
With nothing to fall back on
She's done gone with the roses
And I ain't got no kinda home
The silver mist hangs like wet smoke
Draped across the burning moon
And I don't need no reason
To pen a sad and lonesome tune

We've got ballads sliding out our shirtsleeves
And for a soft place to dream
We'll sing you two or three

Below the Fall Line
They still eat fire
It's in our nature
To build empires
That's what I've found
That's what we're bound to
What we're bound to

It's door deals and spider bites
Pulled-pork plates and calamine
Barreling through a phantom swamp
Concerned not with our design
Louisiana up through Arkansas
What I wouldn't do for a cold beer
Canebrakes and speedtraps
I miss my boys something fierce

We've got ballads sliding out our shirtsleeves
And for a soft place to dream
We'll sing you two or three

Below the Fall Line
They still eat fire
It's in our nature
To build empires
That's what I've found
That's what we're bound to
What we're bound to