A drunk and wealthy man once asked me to write a song about his life and his struggles with love. I started that song, but it ended up being about myself, or both of us.
Oh brother what have you done,
grown your hair in the sun?
You left your mother, your hometown scene
for some crazy dream.
You left your will in Asheville,
now you’re coming back home
to the place where Gods grace
goes gleefully unknown.
Did all them trees and starry nights
cure what can’t get better,
your hungry heart, your uncertainty
and tell me, did you forget her?
Your brother is ill, that’s nothing new,
now you’re coming back home.
Your mother’s here, your deepest fear
come on, come on back home.
You took a man from Gods plan
and now you’re coming back home.
If God where here to see you steer
would he grab that fucking wheel?