Georgia

There’s a word for missing places that can never be the same

And I can’t find it on my tongue now, but it echoes in my brain

And I never knew that ghost towns could feel quite this way

Alive for everybody else but I feel empty just the same

But I know it like I know how the carpet stains with clay

Rust red from the iron running through it, like it’s running in my veins

As far as second chances, guess you all could rewrite your fate

But I know that when I die I’ll be the last one of my name

So lay me down in the water when the creek is running clear

Baptize me with the crawfish and the catfish and the deer

And it was never quite that simple, but it’s held there in my mind

It was Georgia, yea it was mine

I have my father’s stubborn blood and my mother’s anxious mind

I am the last remaining monument to things we’ve lost in time

And though there’s fresh new paint and finishings these walls could never lie

They hold the remnants of a family from a not-so-distant life

Sometimes there’s questions you don’t ask for fear of learning who was right

For fear of seeing that the world was never neatly black and white

They say redemption isn’t something you could ever earn or buy

But Earth’s a bare-knuckle boxing match, a winner-take-all fight

So may we rise like the mountains where they’re whispering of gold

No they may not be the highest, but they’re gentle and they’re old

And you can’t want it when you have it, but I’m missing it with time

It was Georgia, yea it was mine