Текст песни
I was born right here
November '43
My dad was a captain in the army
Fighting the Germans in Sicily
My poor little mama
Didn't know a soul in L.A
She went down to the Union Station
Made her getaway
Got on the Dixie Flyer
Bound for New Orleans
Cross the state of Texas
To the land of dreams
On the Dixie Flyer
Bound for New Orleans
Back to her friends and her family
In the land of dreams
And her own mother came down to the station to meet us
Her dress as black as a crow in a coal mine
She cried when her little girl got off the train
The brothers and the sisters came down from Jackson, Mississippi
In a great green Hudson driven by a Gentile they knew
Drinking rye whiskey from a flask in the back seat
Trying to do like the Gentiles do
Christ, they wanted to be Gentiles too
Who wouldn't down here, wouldn't you?
American Christians, goddamn
On the Dixie Flyer
Bound for New Orleans
Cross the state of Texas
To the land of dreams
On the Dixie Flyer
Bound for New Orleans
Back to her friends and her family
In the land of dreams
Back to her friends and her family
In the land of dreams