Busted bullets in painted walls
Walls that talk through colors
From yesterday back to the
With every dream to clean between
in the house upon the hill
But I used to be the second floor
They stood on me every morning
with their coffee before the bell
I heard every kind of lie
Well that mill shut down somewhere
between the weevils and the war
And they left me standing saddened
only a hundred years and more
Till they knocked me down,
Now I'm a brand new work of art
And I thank the ones who care
to let me share the stories
Walls that talk through colors
From yesterday back to the
They ever dreamed of cleaning
of the wall behind the door
In a Jackson County residence in 1834
Lived through good, bad and ugly
I've seen and heard it all
It might blow your mind if
And the truth inside this wall
Moving in, growing up and on
I've been standing around too long
They knocked me down, tore me apart
Now I'm a brand new work of art
And I thank the ones who cared
So let me share the stories of my heart
Well, I was the kitchen table
in that old Jackson County place
Holdin' vittles up while fiddles played
And folks fed their faces
after all the war was over
Just about the time I came
How that war and I are one
Cause they pluck us from destruction
and they wipe away our tears
To sing our songs in harmony
Yes they knock us down, tear us apart
And we're a brand new work of art
And we thank the ones who care
Let us share the stories of
Well, I am an old musician
I've been years upon the road
On the warm days and the cold
But I'm a brand new work of art
And I thank the ones who care
Let me share the stories of
Busted bullets in painted walls
Walls that talk through col
From yesterday back to the
With every dream that gleamed
