Along Old Fence Lines

Burns Brian

Along old fence lines
Truth rings like the music of a mockingbird, 
Where a man is still as worthy as his word... 
Along old fence lines.
And I see my grandpa resting by that old Artesian well, 
Ah, there's watermelon dripping down my chin, 
The ladies in their finest dresses coming out for church, 
And so I guess it must be Wednesday evening... 
Along old fence lines.

Across old bridges
Are fragments of a world that didn't turn so fast, 
But if you were headed somewhere, friend, they'd let you past... 
Across old bridges.
And I see those kids on Shetland ponies out near Clifton's Store, 
The old men playing checkers by the gate, 
And Haggard's singin' "Mama Tried" somewhere along the dial, 
And I believe it must be about 1968... 
Across old bridges.

There's a place between this two-lane highway and the past, 
Where old friends pass gently through my mind.
I see them for a moment, then they slowly slip away, 
And melt back through the distant lens of time, 
Along old fence lines... 
Across old bridges... 
Beside old rail yards... 
Along old fence lines.