As I walk down the driveway,
I see the golden grass,
I stare into it deeply,
and think about the past,

the Georgia pines a stirring,
dancing in the breeze,
I watch so intently,
that i begin to ease,

calm and contently I started down the field,
rattlers a stirring,
looking for a meal,
a buck walks out cautiously,
antlers shining high,
the scent of the Georgia dirt in his nose,
as it was in mine,

I start to pick some blackberries,
the deer starts to run run run,
I listen closely and soon can here the distant sound of a gun,
it was a rolling thunder,
if not a crackling shock,
with the rolling thunder,
the southern sun exposed,
the rain begins a fallin,
and life starts to slow,
I lie down so happy,
so alive and so free,
all I know is Georgia,
is where i love to be.