Pratica: Heading South

He was a boy who was a dreamer and he flew so high and proud

In a world full of people out to cut his young ass down

No one ever understood a single word, he said

And they cast him to the wolves when he wasn't well and fed

But boys we've got a riser, a riser in our midst

And he will get the last laugh if it's the last thing he did

And he used to roll around in that red dirt mud

But now he's skipping town and that dreamer's out for blood

So don't stop goin', goin' south

'Cause they'll let you play your music real damn loud

Don't stop headin', headin' south

'Cause they will understand the words that are pouring from your mouth

And that boy, he called his daddy to tell him what he did

As the masses screamed the lyrics of a messed up kid

And then he told that old man he was never coming back

To be cut down again in a town like that

And then he surely came to learn people come to watch you fall

But he's out to make a name and a fool out of 'em all

They'll never understand that boy and his kind

'Cause all they comprehend is a fucking dollar sign

So don't stop goin', goin' south

'Cause they'll let you play your music real damn loud

Don't stop headin', headin' south

'Cause they will understand the words that are pouring from your mouth

Don't stop goin', goin' south

'Cause they'll let you play your music real damn loud

Don't stop headin', headin' south

They will understand the words that are pouring from your mouth