F Bb
I was born in the country and raised in the town
F C Dm
I spent every Sunday wandering around
F Bb
I raised lots of cane till my momma would cry
F Dm
She prayed my harvest would wither and die
Bb C F
Wither and die, Lord, wither and die
[Chorus]
Bb F
These slow-going highways and red-running river I choose
Bb F
The song of a siren, the rhythm of nothing to lose
C Bb F
Every step off the front porch is a step into rocking chair blues
[Verse 2]
F Bb
I went down to Oxford to find me some blues
F C Dm
I measure the miles by holes in my shoes
F Bb
I listen for autumn and followed the sound
F Dm
And left off the things that fell to the ground
Bb C F
Fell to the ground, Lord, fell to the ground
[Chorus]
Bb F
These slow-going highways and red-running river I choose
Bb F
The song of a siren, the rhythm of nothing to lose
C Bb F
Every step off the front porch is a step into rocking chair blues
[Instrumental]
[Verse 3]
Gm7 F
If I wandered away would you call me back?
G C
'Cause I'm already gone
Gm G Cm
I'm drifting astray and humming the highway song
F Bb
I was born in the country and raised in the town
F C Dm
I spent every Sunday wandering around
Bb C F
Wandering around, Lord, wandering around
