The Rug

Bobby Lee’s from the Deep South Born to southern charm Drawl slow and easy Talk the talk, stroll the stroll But Bobby Lee’s frustrated Picking cotton, baling hay His daddy said, “know your roots son” It’s always been this way But Bobby Lee has a restless heart A need to cross tired lines He ain’t got time for tradition The same old ways, the same old lines He asks his friends directions, and He tells them he’s gotta run But nobody hears him, nobody sees him It ain’t the way it’s done When there’s no more room under the rug…

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