Big City Dreaming

Rollin’ on empty down 121,
shades on and cigarette lit.
Not even the visor can hide the sun,
and these shaded glasses don’t help a bit.
I hate this road, I hate this town,
I can’t call this “coming home.”
And as the speed limit is slowing down,
I just let the cruise control roam.
Take me far away from here,
four red lights won’t make me successful.
All my freedom in one more year,
and I refuse to live regretful.
I have nothing in mind but big city dreams,
and I promise I’ll be gone soon.
All of the traffic and their bright high beams,
buildings so high, they hide the moon.
I don’t know about you, but I sure hate the sound,
that everyone dies famous in a small town.
So I’m going to leave, and never come back,
until my roots I come to lack.
Southern grown and southern raised,
but soon enough, we’ll find better days.