There's a place I used to know, Down south of OK where the crab grass grows. Where people are content to live and let die. And everybody loves mommas ol' pecan pie. A place where kids just roam the street. And bums don't work but somehow eat. With bridges that hold a thousand bats, and the allys are filled with chesire cats. Everyone knows ol' Daryl's grandma', Work is done with elbow grease and a handsaw. Cars reflect our burning passions, with painted dragons in the latest fashions. I love this place where I was born, Like a bird to its nest, and a seed to the corn. But someday I will leave this place, these things, On a shimmering cloud and Armadillo Wings.
Reason for writing:
The city I love
Birth sign: Not entered
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