It’s a quiet night in the sticks,
So hot and humid, shirts are drenched
And every movement leads to pure
heat exhaustion, sweat trickles down
foreheads and the fans just
Don’t cool when the air is filled
With heavy moisture and good ole’
Southern Sweet Tea can only do
So much to save your poor soul
And bless your heart and say your
Prayers and be sure to never swear
Dogs are barking louder than ever
As they chase a leaving pickup down
A dirt road named “Desire.”
Childhood memories of visiting my grandparents who lived in the sticks... I'm not sure why I decided to name the dirt road "Desire," it just felt right.