| There’s a southern accent
|
| Where I come from
|
| The young’uns call it country
|
| The Yankees call it dumb
|
| I got my own way of talking
|
| But everything is done
|
| With a southern accent
|
| Where I come from
|
| Now that drunk-tank in Atlanta
|
| Was just a motel room to me
|
| Think I might go work Orlando
|
| If them orange groves don’t freeze
|
| I’ve got my own way of working
|
| But everything is run
|
| With a southern accent
|
| Where I come from
|
| For just a minute there I was dreaming
|
| For just a minute it was all so real
|
| For just a minute she was standing there
|
| With me
|
| There’s a dream I that I keep having
|
| Where my mama comes to me
|
| And she kneels down over by the window
|
| And says a prayer for me
|
| I got my own way of praying
|
| And everyone’s begun
|
| With a southern accent
|
| Where I come from
|
| We have our own way of living
|
| But everything is done
|
| With a southern accent
|
| Where I come from |