The place where I was born is a vague memory
Like the flakes in the snow on the broke down TV
It could be in the big city or in a beautiful ditch
With the red corn silo on the broken church bell
Here we go again
Well the girls would all be pretty and the men quiet and strong
And the autumn is beautiful and the summer not too long
Rains of May in pourin like the Genesis flood
Left the old pink flamingo face down in the mud
Here we go again
Well the last thing I'll do before I call it quits
Is probably dream just a little bit
But nothing too hard on my sweet fettered mind
Cause everything, everytings gonna be just fine
Writer(s): Eric Johnson
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