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Where The Mountains Meet The Bay
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Where the mountains sweeps down to meet the coast along the bay, I’m going home if I live to see the day. While this old flat town has got me tied down, I’ll stay on until my money’s made. Remember the snow flying, winds howling outside, Back door flappin’ and the wind a-bafflin’ smoke down inside the pipes, I spent all my free days cutting and hauling wood, And I trade it all for the four lanes out front any day if I could. They never knew what happy meant when they put up all of those signs. The drivers are swearing and the horns are blaring, Everybody pretends they’re blind. And the drunks and the bums are the only ones who’ll pass the time of day, And I know if I gave it to them they’d drink all of my money

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