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