Going back to (find myself) (Find myself) Going back to, going back Zippin' up my boots Goin' back to my roots To the place of my birth Back down to earth Not talkin' about the roots in land I'm talking 'bout the roots in men

They cried the tears, they shed the fears, Up and down the land, They stole guitars or used guitars So the tape would understand, Without even the slightest hope of a thousand sales Just as if, as if there was, a Hitsville in U.K., I know the boy was all

A curse upon you Oliver Cromwell, you who raped our Motherland I hope you're rotting down in hell for the horrors that you sent To our misfortunate forefathers whom you robbed of their birthright "To hell or Connaught" may you burn in hell tonight Have

Calor, sudor Bailando reggaeton Calor sudor Girl make it hot like the roof is on fire Girl the way you dance you are my one desire Girl I don't care if the whole place burn down Burn it up burn it up burn it up

Hold up, walking on a tightrope How could I switch on you? This the only thing I know Stay down and be loyal, now we ballin' like the pros Remember when I used to sit and plan it with the bros Nowadays I'm just sellin' out these shows She tell me that

I was driving at the dawn But everywhere I go, everywhere I go I see you Calling love to the land ‘Cause anything I do, anything I do Is about you I was searching at the speed of sound And I go up and down until I hit the ground I need someone I was

Ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh, ooh Hop into my spaceship coupe There's only room for two (Me and you) And with the top down We'll cruise around Land and make love on the moon And with the top of you wrapped up In my space lover cocoon

The Flint River washes that red Georgia dirt The sun sets slow and the stars shine bright Where I grew up, we rode in trucks Ridin' down Buck Island Road Down where I was born was heaven on earth We raised cotton, corn, a little cane, and kids You either

Saw Cinderella in a party dress but She was looking for a night gown I saw the devil warping up his hands He's getting ready for the show down And were the dreams roll high Out here the good girls die Out here the bell don't ring Dustland fairytale

A curse upon you Oliver Cromwell You who raped our Motherland I hope you're rotting down in hell For the horrors that you sent To our misfortunate forefathers Whom you robbed of their birthright Have you ever walked the lonesome hills And heard the