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• Artiste: Doug Burr
• Titre: Slow Southern Home
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I lay awake for a night Drenched in anguish and bright light I dreamt about an ancient house And a slow Southern home I was there, and so were you Not a word was spoke, nothing new It was old, all was known Like a sheep to the fold A blind man sang, bells of joy I was a stranger, but still a boy My parents dead, the vines had grown Through my slow Southern home In those eyes, I had no name They had seen fear, and all was vain Bells of joy he did sing His noise did ring and ring and ring And everyone must come back The flames have risen, the plumes were black And if you're welcomed home by friends It won't ever be the same again