Concrete creeps,
old trees fall
Whether we like it or not
The black tops and parking lots
Are gonna cover it all
It might take a thousand years
Hell, I pray it's even more
Oh,
but eventually BFE won't be the country anymore
One of these days the bombs gonna drop
The rocks gonna hit the grid or go down
One of these days we're all gonna crawl From a hole in the ground
Somebody's gonna learn how to hunt Somebody's gonna learn how to fish
Somebody's gonna turn some dirt Then
pray for rain to feed a couple bear
fair kids You can build your bedrooms in the sky
You can swallow up my little town When
this beats the fan and the world's just
land Country's gonna come back around
I'm talking about a Flint Rock fire
A house built out of hand-cut boards
I'm talking no store for liquor So
you gotta go figure out how to make it
out of corn Then a bar and a church goes up and a main
street down And just like that you're back to living in a small town
Well,
somebody's gonna learn how to hunt Somebody's gonna learn how to fish
Somebody's gonna pray for rain Then
raise some grain to feed a couple bear
fair kids You can build your bedrooms in the sky
You can swallow up my little town When
this beats the fan and the world's just
land Country's gonna come back around
With a chip on his shoulder Back for revenge
Until the concrete takes back over And it happens all over again
And when it happens all over again Somebody's gonna learn how to hunt
Somebody's gonna learn how to fish Somebody's gonna pray for rain
Then raise some grain to feed a couple bear fair kids
You can build your bedrooms in the
sky You can swallow up my little town
When this beats the fan and the world's just land
Country's gonna come back around Country's gonna come back around
Country's gonna come back around
Always does,
always does