Zebulon

I was 22 years old when I took to the road

Gibson J200 in my hand

I was heading for the West coast

And dreaming about a rock n' roll band​

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In Zebulon county by the side of the road

Trying to to hitch a ride

Rose pulled over in her old pick up

I stepped up inside

​

She looked at me and I felt my dreams

All slip away

The road stopped in Zebulon

​ I knew that I would stay

​

Zebulon's vast like the ocean

Soil made rich by working men

With spirits cracked under the burning sun

That drives 'em out again

​

We planted crops and brought 'em in

And Zebulon wore me down

In the end I took to drinking

And knocking Rose around

​

Tonight I sat on the verandah

It must have been 80 degrees

There was thunder in the distance

And the promise of a cooling breeze

​

I thought about Zebulon County

I thought about Rose

I thought about the highway

and knew, I had nowhere to go.