Vacations in the Bottle

drinkin’ was a way of life,
in the backwoods town that I call home,
a place where a man wasn’t judged by the car he drove,
but the calluses on his hands, and the liquor he could hold.
and a place where Sunday mornings,
the pew’s were full, but so were the bar stools.

a town of hard working men,
who wake up not afraid to meet the challenges of the day,
but when you grow up climbing mountains,
I guess life can only be survived if your built that way.

family ties were tight and true,
there was nothing that a brother wouldn’t do,
a neighbor helped a neighbor out,
and that’s what life was all about,
in this little piece of heaven,
where I was raised,

but just as god had gifted the land,
with beauty of the mountains, rivers, valleys he painted with his own hands,
the devil couldn’t let the souls there live in peace,

he planted seeds of insecurities,
selfish pride, and materialistic dreams,
to make the people think their lives weren’t that grand.

then he stocked the shelves with liquor, so they could drink away their pain.

vacations in a bottle,
a place where a man can go, to go away.
to forget about his problems,
and the bills he has to pay.

these vacations in a bottle,
could help a man out from time to time.
but a man can quickly drown,
when they become a way of life.

so I guess this is the battle,
each man’s been facing since the dawn of time.
the top of the mountain and the bottom of the bottle,
are what a man is destined to find,
which one is up to him and Jesus,
and the rest of the story will only be told by time.

vacations in a bottle,
a place where a man can go, to go away.
to forget about his problems and the bills he has to pay.
these vacations in a bottle,
could help a man out from time to time.
but a man can quickly drown,
when they become a way of life.