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lyrics
TEXAS DUST - NATHAN EVANS FOX
I was raised by violent men,
My drinking daddy and Uncle Sam.
Nothing made quite good sense ‘til there were chevrons in my hands.
Odessa-born, Appalachian son, I raised Cain and grew up to run,
And “hell”’s the name we gave the ways you stick around for love.
Well my boots they set the paths we walked
From West Virginia down to Tomball,
When we dug that grave in Shreveport,
We lost it all.
And a love like ours that turns this bad’s
The kind you fight like hell to make last.
When we gave each other more than what we had,
Lies are all that’s left.
So when you find yourself missing
Who you wished I’d be,
And in your prayers I left my demons in them South Pacific seas,
I can’t change all my ways,
Can’t change the laws of grief.
Back when I was twenty-one,
I was Texas dust,
And you were Tennessee.
When your tears had lost a place to land,
They circled round and they drove you mad.
On a bargain phone we called back home
And packed our bags,
And we bought a piece of family,
On a dead end road made dead end plans.
And every smile that you sent me then
Had a Shreveport stamp.
So when you find yourself missing
Who you wished I’d be,
And in your prayers I left my demons in them South Pacific seas,
I can’t change all my ways,
Can’t change the laws of grief.
Back when I was twenty-one,
I was Texas dust,
And you were Tennessee.
And the father’s sins will reinvent themselves for the sons,
So I did my best to get away but lost my strength to run.
I came back from a foreign war,
Our money spent and my health turned poor,
And I knew we were done for.
I knew we were done for.
So when you find yourself missing
Who you wished I’d be,
And in your prayers I left my demons in them South Pacific seas,
I can’t change all my ways,
Can’t change the laws of grief.
Back when I was twenty-one,
I was on the run,
We were not in love,
I was Texas Dust.
credits
from Texas Dust,
released April 17, 2018
Nathan Evans Fox - acoustic guitar, fiddle, piano, percussion
Lindsay Foote - backing vocals
Michael Conner - bass
Written, recorded, and produced by Nathan Evans Fox.
Mastered by Greg Abate at Neon Audio.
Born and raised in western North Carolina, Nathan Evans Fox writes songs that sound the way gas stations feel. When it comes
to Nathan’s approach, Americana Highways writes, “It’s not cornpone, it’s not alt-country, country-western, or pop-country. Fox has a solid hold on a serious genre of country seldom covered by many artists. It cuts through the commerciality of country music.”
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