Lord, why did you bring me here, can't you take me back home? Hide me somewhere else. What about Montana? Utah? Arizona? Let me set up shop with my friend in California. I promise I'll show up to work on time. Let America hide me, I can almost see her from here, her arms outstretched. There's a river where every single tree knows me by name, where an old man said, "I remember you, used to run around here drivin' all the boys crazy." I know they'll look out for me there. They always did. They never let anything happen to me. She may be a savage land in some respects, but it's a familiar savagery. One I know I can survive. Why won't you let me go home? Would it be so awful? You say you need me here, but Papa it doesn't seem fair.
What am I gonna eat?
Who'm I gonna talk to?
You got me all set up on this damn street and it really isn't funny.
Born in the wrong place at the wrong time, why did I agree to this? I should've done things differently. I can count them, one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, who opened the door to me if I'd have just stepped inside. And they never even saw me being sweet. So why can't I go home yet? Huh? You just tell me which one to love and where to go and I won't talk back anymore, I'll do as I'm told and read the Word and I won't complain anymore. Just don't make me stay here. Don't say, "Wait." My girl and I want to go home.