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(Mac McAnally) (Track 5 - Time 4:32) Grease in our hair Hands in our pockets We stood and stared At cars goin' past We placed our bets Where they were headed And held our cigarettes Like movie stars Grandmother's hands Hard from the garden She had a plan For me to preach one day She prayed for rain She watched and she waited And never complained When it did not fall Southbound Breezes blowing This town ain't my home You can slow me down But I'm going If I can turn this road I'm on Southbound Stories I tell Reek of nostalgia And those that know me well

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