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I've been around this country in a wagon of Indian quilts.
I've met the ones who've claimed it and I've met the ones who've built.
Of the ones I've met I loved many.
Of the ones I loved, I knew few.
They'd always know I'd be leaving; sooner or later they'd be too.

I'm a woman of many colors.
Yes, my mind is never made.
So I'll travel this land like a canvas until I'm out of paint.

I've worn out my welcome, so I'll leave before the dawn.
If there's one thing this country taught me, it's to leave before you're gone.
Of the ones I've left, I've mourned many.
Of the one I've mourned I call two.
They'd always know I'd break their hearts before they broke my blues.

I'm a woman of many virtues, if you'd only let me grow.
But my spirits been broken in so many ways, my seed you must learn to sew.

I know this town like I built it.
I know which roads will lead to where, and I'll stay and visit as long as these roads know how to take me somewhere.
Of the places I've been I've kept many in mind, but I've dreamed them all the same.
Of the ones I've dreamed, there's only one place that gave me my name.

I'm a woman of many stories; if you'll listen I'll tell you one.
I've called many places my home little darlin,' but I only come from one.

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