Get back to Georgia

i’d leave my boots by the front door, dusty from that ole red ground’ now I’m staring out a hotel window, and some cold, unfamiliar town. The pines don’t whisper like they used to, no sweet magnolias in the breeze, and the roads out here are paved, and there ain’t no peace.

I miss that red Georgia clay, where the Earth would stay in your jeans, where momma’s voice would call me home through fields of broken dreams. it’s more than just dirt, it’s the love I threw away. Now I’m miles and a memory from that red Georgia clay.

There’s a picture in my glovebox of a porch swing and your smile. We were barefoot in the garden, holding hands, and talking wild. But i left for a job, i left your letters in the rain. Traded sunsets on the Flint River for this lonely window pane.

I miss that red Georgia clay, where the earth would stain your jeans, where momma’s voice would call me home through fields of broken dreams. But now i’m miles and a memory from that red Georgia clay.

If i could just rewind the wheels, i’d head south and never stray.

Because i miss that red Georgia clay and the people who know my name, i miss that small town feel and them ole dove fields. Lord im praying i’ll make it back to Georgia, someday.