Lyrics
She said she was leaving
So I went to follow
Blind love and I-55 got me here
Dirty old salt truck
In the smog before me
And dear old Dixie, back in the rear view mirror
Got a third-story walk-up
With a view of the alley
A mail room job that isn't all glamour and fun
The woman I came for
Is gone to another
Now my feet are just too planted to run
But there's no Carolina Moon over Chicago
No bluegrass growin' out in my backyard
No fields of sugarcane, no soft Virginia rain
But damn, if this livin' ain't Georgia Hard
Down on Halsted
The women walk by me
Like they can tell
I haven't got a dollar to spare
So it's into a side street
For a beer and a sad song
I guess some things
Are the same most everywhere
But there's no Carolina Moon over Chicago
No bluegrass growin' out in my backyard
No fields of sugarcane, no soft Virginia rain
But damn, if this livin' ain't Georgia Hard
So please, Mr. Conwell
Could you except the charges?
When I told you "A cold day in Maacon", I lied
And if your pecan trees still need a-shakin'
I'll be back a-beggin' fast as the grey dog flies
