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Wildflowers - Ron Pope



     
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Wildflowers Lyrics


The hills were alive with wildflowers and I was as wild even wilder than they
For at least I could run they just died in the sun and I refused to just wither in place
Just a wild mountain rose needing freedom to grow
So I ran fearing up where I'd go
When a flower grows wild it can always survive wildflowers don't care where they grow
And the flowers I knew in the fields where I grew
Were content to be lost in the crowd
They were common and close I had no room for growth
And I wanted so much to branch out
So I uprooted myself from home ground and left
Took my dreams and I took to the road
When a flower grows wild it can always survive wildflowers don't care where they grow
[ ac.guitar ]
I grew up fast and wild and I never felt right in a garden so different from me
I just never belonged I just longed to be gone so the garden one day set me free
I hitched a ride with the wind and since he was my friend
I just let him decide where we'd go
When a flower grows wild it can always survive wildflowers don't care where they grow

Just a wild mountain rose seeking mist'ries untold no regret for the path that chose
When a flower grows wild it can always survive wildflowers don't care where they grow
Mhm hm hm mhm...
Wildflowers don't care where they grow

Enjoy the lyrics !!!
Where should I start…these stories, my music, it comes from all the places I’ve been, the people I’ve been blessed to play music along side, the way it feels to play my guitar until it bleeds or to bang on that old piano in my living room until my shoulders ache and my fingers won’t move anymore. From Georgia to New York, New York to the road; Charleston and Memphis, Vermont to Chicago. Turned 21, then 22…released my first record with The District…Maine and Boston and who knows where else…made love in the grass and meant it…walked down Wilshire, blinking in the Los Angeles sun… got lost in Delaware scrambling to get home to my family after too much time…swam in the ocean with the boys, thanking God for purple and orange Florida sunrises. Soaked up New Orleans…tried to become Levon Helm; realized I wasn’t much of a drummer……turned 23. Wrote A Drop In The Ocean with Zach Berkman and then put it away for six months because I didn’t get it…fell in love…drank whiskey from the bottle and howled at the moon…released Last Call…played the blues back-to-back with Buz in Charlotte and just about everywhere else along that godforsaken highway…the van broke down…we fixed it…the van broke down again. Got lost heading to South Carolina and ended up in Alabama…fell out of love and hit my head on the way towards the bottom…turned 24…made a Christmas album, because, damn it, I like Christmas albums. Played big rooms…played small rooms …listened to Van Morrison and cried…listened to trains scream somewhere off in the distance on ink-black sleepless nights… I traced the outline of a woman’s face on a piece of paper; someone I loved and didn’t want to forget once we’d put the whole thing to bed. The picture didn’t turn out the way I’d hoped, so I took my ink-stained fingers and spelled her name out in big, smeared letters on my arm. I guess that’s all I’ve ever really had…my words. This music is the story of where I’ve been, who I am, and where I’m going…these songs are my life.

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Ron Pope