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I was born in the country and raised in the town I spent every Sunday wandering around I raised lots of cane till my momma would cry She prayed my harvest would wither and die Wither and die, Lord, wither and die These slow-going highways and red-running river I choose The song of a siren, the rhythm of nothing to lose Every step off the front porch is a step into rocking chair blues I went down to Oxford to find me some blues I listen for autumn and followed the sound And left off the things that fell to the ground Fell to the ground, Lord, fell to the ground These slow-going highways and red-running river I choose The song of a siren, the rhythm of nothing to lose Every step off the front porch is a step into rocking chair blues If I wandered away would you call me back? 'Cause I'm already gone I'm drifting astray and humming the highway song I was born in the country and raised in the town I spent every Sunday wandering around Wandering around, Lord, wandering around Aus Songtexte Mania