Where the tracks end and the tall wild hay seed begins

Where the thorned twisted metal lies broken open

Where open wide is a prairie and one lone house

In the distance

Take me there, lord, take me there.

Where the dirt road surrenders to wagon wheel tracks

Where the tracks fall away to hoof prints and boot tailored trails

Where a weather worn post holds a ring to tie up a horse

In the distance

Take me there, lord, take me there.

Where behind doors are the answers residing beneath her well worn hat

Where she stands at the bar with a cold frothy jar of Lone Star ambrosia

Where she hums to the tune of a piano playing softly as my perfume drifts

In the distance

Take me there, lord, take me there.

Take me to the Southern sweetness waiting for me to arrive

Long legged Texan woman full of sensual delights

Ride me like the Roan she rides

Cross me over the Mason Dixon Line

Way down South in Dixie

Rebel flag across her heart

Bandita over her shoulders

Criss crossed around her like Mexican gun belts

Pistola holstered and standing at attention

Ready to fire

 In the distance

Take me there, lord, take me there.

In her arms,

She takes me there, oh yes lord, she takes me there.