Price on My Head

. I was born in a town where the truth don't sleep,

where the preacher's son runs moonshine deep. I spoke up once,

now they want me gone for the things I saw and the lines I've

drawn. Mama said, "Boy, keep your boots laced tight."

Daddy left town in the pale moonlight. I carry his name like a

loaded gun and the weight of the wrongs I couldn't outrun. There's a price

on my head, but I ain't for sale. Got a heart full of fire

and a soul that won't bail. They can chase me down through the holler and