I don't know the sound of my father's voice
I don't even know how he says my name
But it plays out like a song on a jukebox in a bar
In the back of my head
Till its worrying machine
And in the cotton fields by the house where I was born
The leaves burn like effigies of my kin
And the trains run like snakes
Through the Pentecostal pines
Filled up with cotton and dime store gin
Oh Jacksonville, how you burden my soul
How you hold all my dreams captive
Jacksonville, how you play with my mind
How my heart goes bad
Suffocating on the pines in Jacksonville
The end, the end, the end

All the cars are lined up on a Saturday night
With a sky full of nothing but moon
And I lose my reflection in a bottle of wine
Till the morning comes down
And I ain't nothing but blue (you)
At the diner in the morning for a plate of eggs
The waitress tries to give me change, I say
"Nah its cool. you just keep it"
I read up my news
I start thinking about her
And I wonder if anybody here besides me
Has got any decent secrets
Oh Jacksonville, how you burden my soul
How you hold all my dreams captive
Jackson-Hell, how you play with my mind
How my heart goes bad suffocating on the pines
In Jacksonville
The end, the end, the end

Copyright: BMG Rights Management, Songtrust Ave, Universal Music Publishing Group, Warner Chappell Music, Inc.
Writer(s): MICHAEL PANES, RYAN ADAMS