blues Yeah, back to the roots, where the wind cuts deep, Single-wide livin’, got a dream but it’s cheap. Tin roof rattles when the storm rolls through, Mama’s on the couch with a hole in her shoe. Ain’t no picket fence, just a chain-link cage, Every night’s a fight, every meal’s a wage. Propane heater barely keepin' us warm, Broken screen door, that’s the eye of the storm. (Pre-Chorus) I was raised in