[ Featuring Stephen Wilson Jr. ]
Concrete creeps, old trees fall
Whether we like it or not, the blacktops and parking lots are gonna cover it all
It might take a thousand years, hell, I pray it's even more
Oh, but eventually BFE won't be the country anymore
One of these days, a bomb's gonna drop, a rock's gonna hit, the grid'll go down
One of these days, we're all gonna crawl from a hole in the ground
And somebody's gonna learn how to hunt, somebody's gonna learn how to fish
Somebody's gonna turn some dirt, then pray for rain to feed a couple barefoot kids
You can build your bedrooms in the sky, you can swallow up my little town
When the shit hits the fan and the world's just land, country's gonna come back around
I'm talkin' 'bout a flint rock fire, a house built outta hand-cut boards
I'm talkin' no store for liquor, so you gotta go figure out how to make it outta corn
Then a bar and church goes up and a main street down
And just like that they're back livin' in a small town
Where somebody's gonna learn how to hunt, somebody's gonna learn how to fish
Somebody's gonna pray for rain, then raise some grain to feed a couple barefoot kids
You can build your bedrooms in the sky, you can swallow up my little town
But when the shit hits the fan and the world's just land, country's gonna come back around
With a chip on its shoulder, back for revenge
Until the concrete takes back over and it happens all over again
And when it happens all over again
Somebody's gonna learn how to hunt
Somebody's gonna learn how to fish
Somebody's gonna pray for rain, then raise some grain to feed a couple barefoot kids
You can build your bedrooms in the sky, you can swallow up my little town
But when the shit hits the fan and the world's just land, country's gonna come back around
Country's gonna come back around
Country's gonna come back around
It always does
It always does
