The southeast Georgia red clay dust is groundin' to my blue jeans. A heavy hundred pound cotton sack draggin' along behind. Wanting to leave this place so bad, I forget how I got here.
I won't say he won't ever stumble. But I'm clinging to my baby's hand. I won't say he won't bring me trouble. But I won't say I won't understand. . I won't say he'll love me forever.