Well I grew up wild and free walking these fields in my bare feet There wasn't no place I couldn't go with a twenty-two rifle and a fishing pole Well I live in the city but don't fit in you know it's a pity the shape I'm in But I got no home and I got no choice oh Lord have mercy on a country boy
When I was young I remember well I'd hunt the wild turkey and the bob-white quail The river was clear and deep back then and fishin' lines tied to the willow limb Well I live in the city...
Well they dammed the river they dammed the stream They cut down the cypress and the sweet gum trees There's a laundra mat and a barber shop and now the whole meadow is a parking lot Well I live in the city...Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
