Feathered Indians - Tyler Childers

In a small corner bar he sits there a'drinkin' Lost as a ball in a field full of corn Further away than he ever imagined That he'd ever end up from the place he was born Now no more forlorn has a Creeker drank whiskey Than the one that you see out the side of your eye Drinkin' alone as he looks out the window At all of the strangers on the corner outside And he'd rather be dead than alive one more minute In this Godforsaken town When he was a kid, Lord he'd never a'dreamt it All the ways that the city can bring a country boy down Now they knew not his name and he knew not their faces And he knew not the how nor the reason for why You could ever wake up and wanna keep on a'livin' In a place where a friend was such a hard thing to find And for e'ryone ya meet there's a whole mess of people Tryin' like hell to pull you on down To the level they're on and the trouble they're tendin' In the mess that they've made in the gutter they found And he'd rather be dead than alive one more minute In this Godforsaken town When he was a kid, Lord he'd never a'dreamt it All the ways that the city can bring a country boy down Some fellas do drugs and things of that nature Some fellas chase girls to hang on their arm Some fellas get by on practically nothin' Some fellas get pissed in a small corner bar And they'd rather be dead than alive one more minute In this Godforsaken town When they were all kids, Lord they'd never a'dreamt it All the ways that the city can bring a country boy down

Works the nightshift at the depot With a pistol and a light And he guards them rustin' missiles Countin' whitetail to pass the time And he's worked there for a long while Since he came home from overseas Helping Kilcorn, fight the good fight And bring Baghdad to it's knees And it was hotter than the mountain But it weren't so ya couldn't stand And it weren't so much the heatwave Nearly as much as all the sand Now his daddy he's a log man With a good leg and fake That he got off of a buddy And a shit shot that he made And he worked them hands to splinters And he raised them youngins right On a little bit of scripture And an acreage of paradise And he'd go out on a weekend And he'd play like Clarence White If Clarence had a real job And picked the guitar when there was time Keeps a trap line in the winter Keeps a line wet in the spring On a lock wall fishin' muskie With his eldest and Steve And they swapped tales about their raisin' And they tell the awfullest lies And they go home when they've a notion And the muskie quit to bitin'

Will you pray for me When the roots of the oak And my ribcage are braidin' If I can think Lord knows that I will fondly pray for you High on the hill where the fox horns blow And down in the grave where they lay me low Catholic girl, pray for me You're my only hope for Heaven When I's a boy I'd drink and love and smoke and snort my fill But all the while I kept in mind the Lord's redeeming grace High on the hill where the fox horns blow And down in the city where the heathens go Catholic girl, pray for me You're my only hope for Heaven Do you reckon He lets free will boys Mope around in purgatory? I know that Hell Is just as real as I am surely breathin' But I've heard tale Of a middle ground I think will work for me When the time has come for changin' worlds I'll hedge my bets with a Catholic girl Catholic girl, pray for me You're my only hope for Heaven