#1
See this old guitar,
to me is a curse.
It drags me cross the world,
verse by verse.
But I miss that county,
where I belong.
Instead I’m chasin’,
another song.

We always knew this county,
wasn’t big enough for you soul.
We always knew one day,
you’d pack up your things and go.


But if you change your mind,
you can give a hand.
Pick up that old plow,
and help work the land.
Those were my father’s words,
that he told me.
While on the phone,
in my county.

We always knew this county,
wasn’t big enough for you soul.
We always knew one day,
you’d pack up your things and go.


And when I die,
please don’t bury me.
Dump my ashes,
in the Mississippi.
Let them float down,
to my home land,
and let be found,
this lost man.

We always knew this county,
wasn’t big enough for you soul.
We always knew one day,
you’d pack up your things and go.

We always knew this county,
wasn’t big enough for you soul.
We always knew one day,
you’d pack up your things and go.
#2
I'm planning on changing the last verse to make it more of a bridge and go like this:

When my final song,
has been sang,
when the sun sets,
on my last day.
Please don't bury me,
please won't you please,
dump my ashes,
in the Mississippi.
Let be found,
this lost man,
let me return,
to my homeland.
Let me return,
to where I belong.
Sit on the banks,
and sing this song.
#3
I kinda like it without the changes to the last verse, honestly.
If you do something right, no one will know you've done anything at all

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