If I Forget the Land That Raised Me

I’ve crossed dry rivers and burning plains, Chased my sins through the smoke and rain. But the dirt beneath these boots of mine, Still owns my blood, still draws the line.

If I forget the land that raised me, Let the thunder drag me down. If I turn from the dust that made me, Bury me face to the ground.

I’ve seen cities built on stolen bones, Preachers preach what the devil owns. But the stars I knew still spell my name, And they’ll burn till I’m reclaimed.

If I forget the land that raised me, Let the storm take what it’s due. If I turn from the dust that made me, Then I’m already through.

If I die out here with no one near, Let the ground decide my years. For a man ain’t lost when the reaper knows, The place his shadow goes.

If I forget the land that raised me, Let the thunder strike me blind. If I turn from the dust that made me, Then no soul’s left to find.

“Yeah… let the dirt remember me.”

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