The place where I was born is a vague memory Like the flakes in the snow of a broke-down TV It could be in a big city in a beautiful dell With a red corn silo or a broken church bell The girls would all be pretty and the men quiet and strong The autumn is beautiful and summer not too long Rains of May would come pouring down in the mud The last thing I'll do before I call it quits Is probably dream just a little bit But nothing too hard on my sweet fadin' mind 'cause everything is gonna be just fine