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I'm just sick of the city folk calling me a hick because I'm walking through the hollow with a stick
Yeah, you yuppie yups can swallow this stick
I'm not a hog
I don't wallow in spit
No, I'm am absolutely capable soul
Born dirt poor in a mining hole
Where my mama gave up wishing as she sat there in a kitschy little Appalachian kitchen alone
Mama's little baby's got rocks in his head
He talks to the dead, oh
But don't walk with his head low
I've got too much pride
Wild, wonderful, and high
To let my spirit die
I get sauced and it comes at a hell of a cost
I burn all of the bridges I cross
I take the wrong path, get lost
When I wake up in the morning I'm covered in frost
No, I'm actually a capable soul
Born dirt poor in a mining hole
Where my mama gave up wishing as she sat there in a kitschy little Appalachian kitchen alone
Mama's little baby's got rocks in his head
He talks to the dead, oh
But don't walk with his head low
I've got too much pride
Wild, wonderful, and high
To let my spirit die
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