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