Music Video

Featured In

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
John Hiatt
John Hiatt
Performer
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
John Hiatt
John Hiatt
Composer
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Don Smith
Don Smith
Mixing Engineer
Shelly Yakus
Shelly Yakus
Mixing Engineer
Greg Goldman
Greg Goldman
Recording Engineer
John Augto
John Augto
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Mike Baumgartner
Mike Baumgartner
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Ken Villeneuve
Ken Villeneuve
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Mark Nevers
Mark Nevers
Assistant Recording Engineer
Thomas Johnson
Thomas Johnson
Assistant Recording Engineer
Eddie Schreyer
Eddie Schreyer
Mastering Engineer
Davey Faragher
Davey Faragher
Associate Producer

Lyrics

You finally found the mainstream
In the middle of your life
You tapped into a vein
Of endless gold chains
Now you're locked up tight
Tearing down the middle of it
Splitting it right in half
Bobbing up and down the waves
Like a runaway slave
On a Huck Finn raft
Take your wife
Take your family
Take your gun
Running through the woods
And the burned out neighborhoods
Looking for someone
A member of your tribe
A Place you can hide
'Til the war has begun
'Cause in the fields before the flood
You'll be spilling blood
Like a native son
Where you gonna run to
There ain't no underground
If only you could fly
You'd cut across the sky
Like a rifle round
Oh, who are your people
And where is your homeland
'Cause they're dying side by side
At the river of pride
Where we tried to take a stand
Take your wife
Take your family
Take your gun
Running through the woods
And the burned out neighborhoods
Looking for someone
A warrior from your tribe
A Place you can hide
'Til the war has begun
'Cause in the fields before the flood
You'll be spilling blood
Like a native son
Take your wife
Take your family
Take your gun
Running through the woods
And the burned out neighborhoods
Looking for someone
A warrior from your tribe
A Place you can hide
'Til the war has begun
'Cause in the fields before the flood
You'll be spilling blood
Like a native son
In the fields before the flood
You'll be spilling blood
Like a native son
Written by: John Hiatt
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out