When I look back on what I’ve done about 100 years from now I’m gonna cry myself to sleep at night, if somebody shows me how.
When the sun shines done on what’s left of me about hundred years from now, I’m gonna cut my water with Rebel Yell and claw my way back to town.
One hundred years, one hundred years. They’ll break me, but I’ll break them too. And this here’s for the brakemen, and this one is for you.
When the sky cracks open and the thunder comes about a hundred years from now, I’m gonna bury this old yoke and chain in the cold wet ground.
When I get off of Tennebrook farm about a hundred years from now, I’m gonna mary you out of commom sense and get out from behind this plow.