[Tempo: 85 BPM | Style: Dark Southern Gothic / Phonk-Country | Feel: Gritty, heavy bass, haunting harmonica]
[Intro]
[Sound of a screen door slamming and cicadas buzzing]
[Deep, distorted harmonica riff over a slow, rattling hi-hat]
Yeah.
Most people see the green, they think of growth.
I see the shadows between the trunks.
I didn’t grow the corn.
I grew up in the briars.
[Verse 1]
I ain't no tractor boy, I don't follow no rows
I’m from the thicket where the poison ivy grows
My daddy didn't plant seeds, he traded in lead
I spent my summers where the copperheads tread
No red barn, just a rusted out shed
With a tarp on the roof and a dog that’s half fed
I don't know a harvest, I don't know the grain
But I know how to track a heartbeat through the rain
While they were praying for a summer shower
I was in the hollow counting every dark hour
The woods ain't a postcard, the woods is a cage
And I’m the wild thing written on the page.
[Chorus]
I’m a son of the timber, a ghost in the pine
There’s a rot in the roots and a chill in the spine
No overalls here, just grease and the grit
In the mouth of the valley, we’re the bottom of the pit
I didn’t till the earth, I just learned how to hide
In the dark country where the light goes to die
Yeah, the light goes to die.
[Verse 2]
Check the porch light, flickering on the vine
Smell the woodsmoke and the homemade wine
They say the land provides, yeah, it provides the scars
Watching black hawks circle under cold, dead stars
I wasn't raised on a porch with a glass of tea
I was raised on the run through the hickory tree
Searching for copper, searching for brass
Running from the shadows in the tall dead grass
The sheriff don't come past the mile marker ten
'Cause the woods swallow secrets and they don't speak again
I got dirt in my nails, but it ain't from the plow
It’s from digging for the truth that I'm feeling right now.
[Bridge]
[Music slows down, heavy sub-bass vibration] You hear that?
That ain't the wind.
That’s the mountain breathing.
It’s hungry today and ITS SAYING MY NAME
[Beat builds back up with a distorted snare]
[Chorus]
I’m a son of the timber, a ghost in the pine
There’s a rot in the roots and a chill in the spine
No overalls here, just grease and the grit
In the mouth of the valley, we’re the bottom of the pit
I didn’t till the earth, I just learned how to hide
In the dark country where the light goes to die.
[Outro]
Keep your combines.
Keep your golden fields.
I’ll take the limestone and the rusted steel.
The woods know my name.
And they don't ever forget.
[Harmonica wails one last time and cuts out]
[Sound of heavy boots walking on dry leaves]
(Silence)
GrizzlyJones
