C.J. Jochimsen
The sullen glow of L.A. fades with every midnight mile.
Don’t much feel like sing’n now, might not for awhile.
Never a time I did not sing, my voice, a light they could see.
Said it was the sun to chase the gloom from night, the joy of Tennessee.
They kept it close, a cocoon I thought, but then a gilded cage.
One day my wings pushed ‘gainst its bind and a woman came of age.
Goin’ back to Nashville, to be the country girl I am.
Where music is the mother of song but will she understand?
Country is the matriarch, she breathes deep upon the land.
Her boys and girls are proud a’ her and loyalty demand.
City paints the harlot; façade to tantalize.
Damn, ain’t no fallen angel; insist you realize!
To sleep must leave this wasteland, fret and fear no more can bear.
Gonna’ try to dream of country, and a hopeful chorus there.
Goin’ back to Nashville, to be the country girl I am.
Where music is the mother of song but will she understand?
Havin’ slept, it seems, more ‘an two days straight; mind and body numb.
A bench outside this Tennessee station; ride is finally done.
Had sent a note, but no one’s come; guess it’s just as well,
Due nothin’ but a whoopin’, ‘cause I got no song to sell.
Clear and bright, close my eyes to Nashville’s eastern dawn.
The rays, so warm, caress my skin, content the morning calm.
The peace of rest is broken, a shadow ‘cross my brow?
There’s hell to pay, the debt is mine, the place is here and now!
I sense her close with rod in hand, my mentor’s come to call!
Leave this place, she’ll demand of me, I care not where you fall!
Instead she stoops, cups my face, bends low to whisper near,
“You’ve been gone far too long, oh child of mine, we’re so very glad you’re here.”
