Southern Clay

My name is Junior, I'm the son of a farmer
My hair is red as southern clay
My cousin Wil, he lives in Jonesboro
But he don't write me no more mail

There was a time that we'd go fishin'
In the summer when the air is still
We'd laugh and throw big rocks in the quarry
And swim like fishes, just me and Wil

Now where Wil lives, some boys did something
They did something really wrong
Took out for the woods behind the schoolyard
And they shot some children down

Now Wil he looks at me with dull eyes
And his mind's gone far away
I remember when his blue eyes
Were brighter than the brightest day

Well, it don't seem right that he's not with me
It don't seem right that he's not here
I'll keep waiting down by the water
There I don't have to hide my tears

My name is Junior, I'm the son of a farmer
My hair is red, red as southern clay
My cousin Wil, well he lives in Jonesboro
But he don't write, he don't write me no more mail.