The Vine That Ate the South

In the shadow of the steeple, all fire and brimstone

Anna worked her days away in the clouds of cigarette smoke

Daddy was the sheriff, he died on Halloween

His heart gave out when he saw a bridge coming down over North Fort Creek

And all the holy hypocrites talking out both sides their mouth

Spit the seeds that would become the vine that ate the South

It's hard being sober with the devil on your shoulder

And the family curse growing all around, like the kudzu taking over

In the loft of this A-frame, I can feel so close

Swimming with the spirits of the ones I miss the most

Reminisce on the feeling of raising them a toast

I'm staring at the ceiling, and praying to their ghosts

I see how little you think you're worth, and my heart's yelling hot and loud

Two generations from a dirt floor house, and the vine that ate the South

It's hard being sober with the devil on your shoulder

And the family curse growing all around, like the kudzu taking over

Kudzu crawls so deep in the ground, every time you cut it back

It reappears to haunt you, turning feeling into fact

Asking for their presence, forsaking all their pain

Taking what they've been through, trying not to do the same

Brought here as a cure to slow the backslide down

But there's a catch to any quick fix, now it's the vine that ate the South

It's hard being sober with the devil on your shoulder

And the family curse growing all around, like the kudzu

It's hard being sober with the devil on your shoulder

And the family curse growing all around, like the kudzu taking over