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​

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.

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