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She comes from a land called West Virginia.
She comes from a foreign land.
A bottle of pop and a wooden block can fill a day.
Gaze, stalk, and stare, like a jealous mare.
I know she's coming home from West Virginia.
She comes from a land called West Virginia.
She comes from a father's girl named Georgia.
She's got rhythm and she's got blues beyond Chet Atkins,
but no one cares that no one cares.
But I know she's coming home from West Virginia.
She gives it all. It never ends.
Will it ever come back again?
She gives it all. Will it come back again to her?
She's coming home from West Virigina.
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