It was July hot across Georgia
|
On my way to Myrtle Beach
|
I just got my diploma
|
so I set out in search of me
|
The honeymoon was over
|
And Alabama was far away
|
For being little more
|
Than just a southern state
|
|
I got a gig down at the Bowery
|
I played for tips and watered drinks
|
Just a novice in a business
|
That's seldom what it seems
|
|
And where are you going Tar Top?
|
Where's J.C. and the Chosen Few?
|
I saw the Flash without T. Gentry
|
and B.V. left for Malibu
|
|
I was July hot and 30
|
Some years down the line
|
When the boys touched the nation
|
unaware at the time
|
I got to go to Texas
|
California, New York too
|
A farm boy who is thankful
|
To be standing in his shoes
|
|
But in the Bowery hangs the memories
|
Of dreams that still come true
|
Everytime I see the spotlights
|
I'm one of the Chosen Few
|
|
And where are you going Tar Top?
|
J.C., where's J.C. and the Chosen Few?
|
There's no Flash without T. Gentry
|
B.V. Where are you?
|
|
Where are you going Tar Top?
|
Which direction will you take?
|
What's this contrabanded Glamour
|
About the music that you make?
|
|
And where are you going Tar Top?
|
Isn't country enough?
|
Is it contemporary glamour?
|
No, it's us... just us.
|
|
one more time.
|
|
-----------------
|
Tar Top
|
Alabama |