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Lyric provided by www.seekalyric.com |
(Mac McAnally) Breeze in our hair, hands in our pockets We stood and stared at cars going past We placed our bets where they were headed And held our cigarettes like movie stars. Grandmother's hands hard from the garden She had a plan for me to preach one day She prayed for rain she watched and she waited And never complained when it did not fall. Southbound breezes blowing This town ain't my home You can slow me down but I'm going If I can turn this road I'm on southbound. Stories I tell reek of nostalgia And those that know me well have heard 'em all before How far I've come mostly I'm proud of But where I'm coming from is calling me. Southbound breezes blowing This town ain't my home You can slow me down but I'm going If I can turn this road I'm on southbound. Southbound breezes blowing This town ain't my home You can slow me down but I'm going If I can turn this road I'm on southbound. Southbound breezes blowing This town ain't my home You can slow me down but I'm going If I can turn this road I'm on southbound... |