Where the sun shines brightly,

And the birds cry loud,

Where the sky stays blue without thought of a cloud.

When the U-Haul tips slightly,

And we start the truck.

Now the wheels start rolling out of the muck.

Moving out of Georgia,

To a northern state.

To where my dad has been finding us a place.

From a land that is gorgeous,

To one cold in snow;

Leaving some good friends I had come to know.

He plugs his phonejack in,

And the music plays.

Turning the knob of the sound up all the way.

The heavy guitar begins,

The drums play aloud.

The vocals are a beautiful sound.

In the chords I revel.

He gives me his phone.

And I look at the lyrics as we drive on.

“Well, don’t speak of the devil,

He’s no friend of mine.

To turn from him is what we’ve got in mind.”

For a few days we drive,

Getting little sleep.

Ever north did the moving truck slowly creep.

When we finally arrived,

I stretched out my legs.

I knew my life would never be the same.