The Hills of Appalachia

Mister, mister, can you stop for me?
I ain't got much besides this guitar
Back a ways you'd find what else I own
In the trunk of that damned old car

Don't know what blew but it's smoking like hell
And man it sure don't sound good
It made it clear it ain't going no further
Oh there's fury beneath that hood

It dragged my bones all the way to California
But it sure ain't taking me home
So if you've got a spare seat and you're headed east
Mister, that's where I'm going

I'm aiming for a holler in the hills of Appalachia
No sir, you wouldn't know the name
It's prettier than heaven, and where I met the world
But it ain't got no other claims to fame

I left my holler true to find my fame and fortune
On this here California coast
But to tell truth lonely shots of rye whiskey
Was what I seemed to find the most

Hollywood don't want me, the radio won't play me
I guess I ain't their kind
And singing on the street man sure gets lonely
When nobody pays you no mind

I ain't sorry that I tried it, I ain't sorry that I came
I ain't sorry that I bet it all
But in the words of Kenny Rogers, ya gotta know when to fold 'em
And I ain't got the money left to call

So I'm headed on home to a girl that I've been writing
No she don't care I ain't no star
You got to know when to hold 'em
And I ain't held her in an age
And that's why I was speeding in my car

It's funny sometimes you gotta go so far
To find again the place where you were born
To remember how it smelled, to remember how it felt
To remember the cloth from which you're torn

So I'm aiming for a holler in the hills of Appalachia
No sir, you wouldn't know the name
But it's prettier than heaven, and where I met the world
And where I'm going again

So I'm aiming for a holler in the hills of Appalachia
No sir, you wouldn't know the name
But it's prettier than heaven, and where I met the world
And where I'm going again