Even Crooked Trees Grow Straight Down South
Click here to listen to "Even Crooked Trees Grow Straight Down South" Over in Allen Town, where tent shows attract fancy sheets!
A dark field hand, was hurled back to Turkey Creek!
Running feet making curling sounds,
A moonlit night chasing souls to the ground!
Brown eyes toward the north, tongue-in-cheek hangin' out
Of the mouth, even crooked trees grow straight down south! There in the midst of a perverted and crooked forest,
Echoes in the wind fierce agitated voices!
Tracking dogs and jack-o-lanterns,
Encountered trembling limbs in handcuffs,
A stretched neck rubbing against the pine bluff, But in the midst of the serpent's den, boldly stood three
Sacred trees, without a sway, without a bend!