Ryan Adams

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 song on a jukebox in a bar
In the back of my head till it's 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
CHORUS I
Jacksonville, how you burden in 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