(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...