Smokey

Somewhere in a small town, in a one room tin roof shack Living life kinda slowed down, 3 miles from the rail road track Staying close to the river, Killing time fishing down the old wood lake Lives a man on mission, to stay away from the rat race He's a quiet kind a soul with no family ties Just a rifle on his arm and a dog by his side Home cooking on a campfire, burning wood from the Georgia pine Sipping whiskey from a hip flask, the only thing left to him when his daddy died Steady living in the slow lane, you don't need much when you got all you need Nobody knows his real name, they call him Smokey cos he drifts on the wind He's a quiet kind a soul with no family ties Just a rifle on his arm and a dog by his side When the sun gets low, he picks the blues on an old guitar He like to let it all go, smoke it on up to the moon and stars No he's not afraid of dyin', He knows too many people on the other side He says, you can't change what's comin' So to be safe he keeps a bible on the bed side He's a quiet kind a soul with no family ties Just a rifle on his arm and a dog by his side He's a quiet kind a soul with no family ties Just a rifle on his arm and a dog by his side