Jugband

I want so much,
To sway like the bass lines,
To drift in triplets,
Falling asleep behind a county fair,
The oldest generation,
Is about the only one worth keeping here,
With their small eyes and worn hands,
They have seen these towns grow,
But still remember bare mountainsides,
I want to give it all back,
The land and the future,
For those who were schooled in church,
And born onto stone floors,
And to the same,
When they can no longer see the sky,
I will be truly sorry.