Touching down,
Places I've outgrown,
Tasting that misery I used to wear like clothes,
Well some still do,
My old friends,
They're all ghosts now,
I suppose now,
I was on a fault line jumping over landmines,
It was my home.
Gave up that regional dialect,
And that southern fashion,
I took that culture 'cross the state line,
And sent it back in a casket,
But here's what's left,
Of my old heart,
On the river banks,
All water logged,
We were just some young trash tryna' make a buck fast,
I'm moving on,
I'm moving on.
There's a place,
That still exists,
They've got that small town secret,
That nobody's keeping,
Well I guess some do,
My old friends,
They're all ghosts now,
I suppose now,
I used to run through good nights the way some run through red lights,
We're moving on,
We're moving on.
