Black Hills Songtext
von Gregory Alan Isakov

In the Black Hills
it′s so familiar now
Familiar like NPR in the afternoons
It's never too much, ′cause
You still may never know
The salt on the sidewalks or
Whether my feet will find me in
Quicksand erosion, or concrete

These are the questions that rush through my brain
On another, but different, sunny day
In the Black Hills


I will meet your mother today
I won't be so sure what to do with my hands
And I'm never quite so sure where I come from
Or what my daddy does

When whiskey isn′t speaking from your sweet lips
We still believe in me

These are the questions that rush through my brain
On another, but different, sunny day
In the Black Hills

I′m so scared of my hands
I'm so scared of those voices on the afternoon radio
And i′m so scared of what my hands are gonna do
I'm so scared to leave Black Hills