| Sometimes it feels like this world
|
| Is spinning faster
|
| Than it did in the old days
|
| So naturally, we have more
|
| Natural disasters
|
| From the strain of a fast pace
|
| Sunday was a day of rest
|
| Now it’s one more day for progress
|
| And we can’t slow down 'cause
|
| More is best
|
| It’s all an endless process
|
| (Well) I miss Mayberry
|
| Sitting on the porch drinking
|
| Ice cold Cherry Coke
|
| Where everything is black and white
|
| Picking on a six string
|
| Where people pass by and you call
|
| Them by their first name
|
| Watching the clouds roll by Bye, bye
|
| Sometimes I can hear this old
|
| Earth shouting
|
| Through the trees as the wind blows
|
| That’s when I climb up here on This mountain
|
| To look through God’s window
|
| Now I can’t fly but I got two feet
|
| That get me high up here
|
| Above the noise and city streets
|
| My worries disappear
|
| (Well) I miss Mayberry
|
| Sitting on the porch drinking
|
| Ice cold Cherry Coke
|
| Where everything is black and white
|
| Picking on a six string
|
| Where people pass by and you call
|
| Them by their first name
|
| Watching the clouds roll by Bye, bye
|
| Sometimes I dream I’m driving
|
| Down an old dirt road
|
| Not even listed on a map
|
| I pass a dad and son carrying a Fishing pole
|
| But I always wake up every time I try
|
| To turn back
|
| (Well) I miss Mayberry
|
| Sitting on the porch drinking
|
| Ice cold Cherry Coke
|
| Where everything is black and white
|
| Picking on a six string
|
| Where people pass by and you call
|
| Them by their first name
|
| Watching the clouds roll by Bye, bye
|
| Bye, bye
|
| (I miss Mayberry, I miss Mayberry) |