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
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.