| Missouri’s tied together like a rolling rag rug
|
| Bit and pieces and necessity and love
|
| You can sense the proud and working dirt poor
|
| Clean and pressed like Sunday shirt but edge worn
|
| Chorus: You think by now we’d be a little further on
|
| For all this tumbling we’ve been through
|
| As I’m leaving Missouri into Southern Illinois
|
| I feel like I’m finally getting closer to you
|
| When women look for answer then learn to listen and sit still
|
| Men think they’ve got to take some kind of stand
|
| Yet we’re drawn together like magnet to magnet
|
| Spend years trying to explain again
|
| Chorus: You think by now we’d be a little further on
|
| For all this tumbling we’ve been through
|
| As I’m leaving Missouri into Southern Illinois
|
| I feel like I’m finally getting closer to you
|
| There’s a photo on the table of my family and me
|
| Taken in some studio in 1963
|
| The faces are familiar but I can’t tell you why
|
| Most families nod and then they sigh
|
| Chorus: You think by now we’d be a little further on
|
| For all this tumbling we’ve been through
|
| As I’m leaving Missouri into Southern Illinois
|
| I feel like I’m finally getting closer to you
|
| When I get healed I’m gonna be a healer
|
| That’s just the nature of those things
|
| We don’t exist in any solid form
|
| We’re always moving and changing
|
| Chorus: You think by now we’d be a little further on
|
| For all this tumbling we’ve been through
|
| As I’m leaving Missouri into Southern Illinois
|
| I feel like I’m finally getting closer to you |