| I’d like to say it was perfect
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| Growing up was a fairytale
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| But Hollywood don’t make no movies
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| About a house up on wheels down a dirt road, Mississippi
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| Tucked back in the trees
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| Route 3 Box 250 D
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| Well the man my mama married
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| Had a mean streak in his blood
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| And when he took to drinking
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| He’d take it out on us
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| And I could hear my mama crying
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| That made it hard to sleep
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| Route 3 Box 250 D
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| That’s where I became a man
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| Long before my time
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| And since I left I ain’t been back
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| But I go back in my mind
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| Thank God for Buford Bailey
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| He had a pond he’d let me fish
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| That’s where I’d run off to
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| Every chance I’d get
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| And I would pray that God was listening
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| And He’d come rescue me
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| Route 3 Box 250 D
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| Then one day, my uncle pulled up in a pickup truck
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| Loaded up everything
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| Wasn’t much but it was everything
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| I’d like to say it was perfect
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| That growing up was a fairytale
|
| But Hollywood don’t make no movies
|
| About a house up on wheels down a dirt road, Mississippi
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| But that’s what made me leave
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| Route 3 Box 250 D |