And there's that one particular harbor Sheltered from the wind Where the children play on the shore each day And all are safe within...
When reality looks too ugly, fantasize.
I slowly surrender to the child in me who can't say goodbye.
My head hurts, my feet stink, and I don't love Jesus. It's that kind of morning.
Elvis was the only man from Northeast Mississippi who could shake his hips and still be loved by rednecks, cops, and hippies.
I know I should be leaving this climate, I've got a verse, but can't rhyme it.