Well when the wind blows down in Cisco, Texas, you know you better hunt you a
hole
But there’s always some mighty friendly faces, waitin' to greet you at the door
Hot country biscuits in the mornin' time. «Hello Mr. Jackrabbit, Mr.
Mesquite Tree.»
I’m 29 years from Cisco, Texas, but I really haven’t gone anywhere at all
Come a long, long way from Rankin, Texas. And the day when my daddy played
People would come from miles around, bring the food and just stay and stay
And every time I think of the days gone by, I can’t help but feel a little sad
'Cause I think of all the years and miles and the tears, and I hear the voice
of my grandad
Good country pickin' goin' down every night. Good clean livin' underneath the
starry skies
I’m 29 years from Rankin, Texas, but I really haven’t gone anywhere at all
No, I really haven’t gone anywhere at all. No, I really haven’t gone anywhere
at all
Art has tension, talent, and universal application. Questions and feelings. Strongholds and doubts. Moments and transcendence. Anchors in the trivial, trivia beyond the common place. Connection. Fine artists....