I'm a town in Carolina, I'm a detour on a ride For a phone call and a soda, I'm a blur from the driver's side I'm the last gas for an hour, if you're going 25 I am Texaco and tobacco, I am dust you leave behind I am peaches in September and corn from a roadside stall I'm the language of the natives, I'm a cadence and a drawl I'm the pines behind the graveyard and the cool beneath their shade Where the boys have left their beer cans, I am weeds between the graves My porches sag and lean with old black men and children My sleep is filled with dreams, I never can fulfill them I am a town I'm a church beside the highway where the ditches never drain I'm a Baptist like my daddy, Jesus knows my name I am memory and stillness, I am lonely in old age I am not your destination, I am clinging to my ways I am a town I'm a town in Carolina, I am billboards in the fields I'm an old truck up on cinderblocks, missing all my wheels I am Pabst Blue Ribbon, American, and "Southern Serves the South" I am tucked behind a Jaycees sign on the rural route I am a town I am a town I am a town Southbound
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