Dirt from The Trike by The Trike

we traded our God for a textbook
then we traded our books for cold, blue screen
now we’re scanning the network searching
looking for spirit in everything

I’m going back to the land
the old, brown earth
I don’t need no preacher
don’t want no new birth
just give me a pair of worn out boots
and plant my feet in the dirt
In the dirt

we left our families for money
alone and unprepared in the cities we worked
with no connections, we thought we were free
but loneliness is just what it’s cracked up to be

I’m going back to the land
the old, brown earth
I don’t need no preacher
don’t want no new birth
just give me a pair of worn out boots
and plant my feet in the dirt
In the dirt

I want to feel the dirt of my home town
put my toes in the sand of the river of my youth
there is no secret to happiness
but in the warm, dark earth I find the truth

• Rock
• indie rock
• powertrio
• roots rock
• Peekskill