Bound by These Hills

Born in a fog thicker than sin. The cold dust clings like a

second skin. The mountains call, they pull you in. I dreamed of

brighter stars as the dawn beamed through, I was gone. Got a family

to feed, they're my only kin. I'm bound by these mines,

tied to the clay. The roots in my boots won't let me stray.

I dreamed of the ocean, even Montana's big sky, but these Appalachia

hills keep crying, "Here you'll die." I once packed a bag, got halfway to

New York, but those hills called my name and I turned back around their