Poca ft. Mysterious Broadcast Lyrics

Hornets nesting in the holes in the yard

Watch the neighbor's horses pour some food for the dog

Down the driveway try not to fall into the stream

Cross the river back through Wheeling again

Down in Putnam county felt like living in a dream

Aunties frying up some cakes in the pan

Smoke is being twirled all around by the fan

There's chatter from the living room, the family I got

Climb up the mountain rifle on my back

Sweat pouring from my skin giving myself a laugh

And daddy's coming up with me to make sure I don't get shot

Hear momma's stories, taken to work with her pops

Coal Miners Daughter playing on the jukebox

I know that life here is often in lament

But I been longing for that simple existence

Back when I was but a young boy no worry of subsistence

But we ain't going back to Poca again

Up in the big house there were holes in the floor

All the termites in the boards ain't getting drunk anymore

Not since they torn it down and sold off all the scraps

This land is changing not the way that I'd hoped

I'm reminded of the days when I would come to this home

I'd play around with the bugs and dirt out in the back

Catchin crawdads down in the creek

Watch for the snakes that slither down by your feet

There are many more now than there ever was before

Found a pistol in the trunk by the couch

.380 caliber nobody knows it was found

It's time to head back out don't lock the door

Hear momma's stories, taken to work with her pops

Coal Miners Daughter playing on the jukebox

I know that life here is often in lament

But I been longing for that simple existence

Back when I was but a young boy no worry of subsistence

But we ain't going back to Poca again

Mom and pops are sitting back on the porch

Me and the cousins shoot some holes in the woods

There's food frying out back on that rusty grill

Running from the dogs that live down the street

Carry a big stick and knife and boots on your feet

Down here there ain't no use for a dollar bill

Last time I was there was moving furniture out

This trailer is empty and the day was a drought

The sun beating down and burning us up red

Sold the land off got a home in the south

Down by the water nothing to worry about

Reminding me this is all for the best

Hear momma's stories, taken to work with her pops

Coal Miners Daughter playing on the jukebox

I know that life here is often in lament

But I been longing for that simple existence

Back when I was but a young boy no worry of subsistence

But we ain't going back to Poca again

Oh no lord we ain't going back to Poca again

Oh no lord we ain't going back to Poca again

Oh no lord we ain't going back to Poca again