[Verse]
Dust on the boots, soles heavy with regret,
Mama’s prayers rising, still ain't found a way yet.
Collard greens wilting, stove ain’t lit,
Cracks in the wall where the roaches sit.
Sweat drips thicker than molasses from the brow,
Field work calling, but the sun won’t bow.
Pocket lint richer than the man next door,
Dreams too small to even reach the floor.
[Chorus]
Southern shadows, creeping low,
No escape, just the undertow.
Dreams caught in the mud, won’t let go,
That’s what it’s like when you’re born below.
[Verse 2]
Granddaddy’s shotgun, rust on the steel,
Says it’s for the snakes, but the hunger’s real.
Porch boards creak, secrets in the night,
Fists hit walls when the money gets tight.
Sunday suits threadbare, worn too thin,
Preacher says hope, but where’s it been?
Mosquito hums louder than a city choir,
Heat so thick it could choke the fire.
[Chorus]
Southern shadows, creeping low,
No escape, just the undertow.
Dreams caught in the mud, won’t let go,
That’s what it’s like when you’re born below.