Rocking Chair Blues

I was born in the country and raised in the town
 I spent every Sunday wandering around
 I raised lots of cane till my momma would cry
 She prayed my harvest would wither and die
 Wither and die, Lord, wither and die
 These slow-going highways and red-running river I choose
 The song of a siren, the rhythm of nothing to lose
 Every step off the front porch is a step into rocking chair blues
 I went down to Oxford to find me some blues
 I listen for autumn and followed the sound
 And left off the things that fell to the ground
 Fell to the ground, Lord, fell to the ground
 These slow-going highways and red-running river I choose
 The song of a siren, the rhythm of nothing to lose
 Every step off the front porch is a step into rocking chair blues
 If I wandered away would you call me back?
 'Cause I'm already gone
 I'm drifting astray and humming the highway song
 I was born in the country and raised in the town
 I spent every Sunday wandering around
 Wandering around, Lord, wandering around