| Well, I need a sip of muddy water
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| From my daddy’s wishin' well
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| Scattered his ashes on the delta
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| From here on I’ll be drinkin' by myself
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| Where pink Cadillacs and blue suede shoes
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| Meet steel guitars and new grass blues
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| The music there, it ain’t turned into business
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| Tonight I’ll be somewhere south of Memphis
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| Where the cotton grows from the Mississippi mud
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| And the blues runs deep in your blood
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| I love this land with God as my witness
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| I’ll live and die somewhere south of Memphis
|
| Well, I’ve seen my share of big ol' cities
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| But I couldn’t wait to get back home
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| Well, they’ll play you a, a front porch song for free
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| That reminds you that they ain’t been free for long
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| Where them juke joints jump on a Friday night
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| And you don’t need a gun to settle no fight
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| And come Sunday mornin', hell, you’ll be beggin' for forgiveness
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| That’s just life somewhere south of Memphis
|
| Where the cotton grows from the Mississippi mud
|
| And the blues runs deep in your blood
|
| I love this land with God as my witness
|
| I’ll live and die somewhere south of Memphis
|
| Yeah, where the cotton grows from the Mississippi mud
|
| And the blues runs deep in your blood
|
| Well, I love this land with God as my witness
|
| Well, I’ll live and die
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| I’ll said I’ll, I’ll live and die somewhere south of Memphis
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| That’s just life |