Anniston

In Anniston the sun burns hot all day
And yellow weeds take root in blood red clay
The neighbor kids all play in rusted cars
And keep their pennies in a mason jar
Saving for the day their chance will come
To take ‘em far away from Anniston

In Anniston I’ve spent these eighteen years
Working, killing time, and drinking beer
Late at night down by the railroad tracks
That run along behind the cardboard shacks
And count the days until that engine comes
To haul my white ass out of Anniston

Anniston

Daddy worked tobacco in the field
With bloody, blistered hands that would not heal
Muttering a curse with every breath
And pushing on until there’s nothing left
Nothing left but broken flesh and bone
Buried in the dirt of Anniston

Anniston

Well I know where I’m going, I ain’t dumb
Like every other cracker bastard son
Of Anniston

On the day I reach that kingdom come
I’m never looking back on Anniston
Never looking back on Anniston
Never looking back…

Anniston