Here I am standing firm

As the ground shakes beneath me

I send you away with my own hand

I try and try to remember that for now it's for the better

But there's a Southern kind of tragic blowing in

And it feels like the beginning of the end

Well the Alabama moon fell from the sky

And the sweet tea wells ran dry

Somewhere out there you're finding yourself

But back home it's the end of time

I'm scared to death

Pick up your phone

Outside I hear the bells ringing

Bringing ruin to all that we have ever known

Pick up your phone

I need an answer

Come home and call off disaster

'Cause I fear tonight our Cotton Land might fall

Oh I'm cracking like the plaster on the wall

Well the Alabama moon fell from the sky

And the sweet tea wells ran dry

Somewhere out there you're finding yourself

But back home it's the end of time

It's the end of time

Is it the end of all time

Or just the end of mine

Well all of the cotton died in the fields

The little babies cried the blue from their eyes

Somewhere I'll bet you're living it up

But come home before the end

The Alabama moon fell from the sky

And the sweet tea wells ran dry

Somewhere out there you're finding yourself

But back home it's the end of time

Come home and be mine

Come home, come home

You're falling apart, cracking and breaking away underneath me. And it hurts to know it.

Is that it? Are we our own individuals now? Are we no longer a group, a solid group of five? Was my leaving all it took for our group to fall apart? Huh? I wonder everyday if things would've been different if I never left. I love you, I do.

But I'm disappointed...

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