anywhere in time and space
Three hours from Nashville,
crawling up the Natchez Trace
With a Cadillac mind that pulled in the can
Out on the Manchester East
Stood up on an ancient mound
Took my time to look around
No point deciding when you're
I'll never forget her face
I saw it last, when I paid for gas,
Rollin' to the Brooklyn Yonder,
Head triggers and guitar pickers,
heading down the Natchez Trace
Pulled into a country town,
crossed the tracks and looked around
not a problem when you're on your own
the wars of class and race
Shadows the clock and follow us
all down the matches trays
If there's somewhere you know,
Ride down that trail of tears,
roll back ten thousand years
Grab a twenty from the ATM,
Andrew Jackson's on the road again