We took to stealing copper wire
Stashed in a laurel slick down by the old mine
Where ain't no coal been hauled out
Since 1979
It's all growed up with poison sumac
Kudzu wrapped in hemlock teeth
The cinnamon vine and the ginseng leaves
Swaying in the wind brought down from the ridge
Here on Dope Mountain
You can catch you a chill
& The maestro surmises we belong to these hills
To these hills
Hunting morels and arrowheads
Skirting the creeks and the washed-out beds
Eating microwaved vanilla Moonpies
& Watching Tom T learn to fight
Every other weekend the boys are here
Breaking off limbs and sharpening up spears
Proud to be a hillbilly, 6th generation
But we ain't no white trash
& The counterpoint lies under the melody
& The counterpoint moves under the melody
& The counterpoint breathes under the melody
& The counterpoint sings under the melody
