intro: 
A5 ....... A5  F#5  D5  E5  A5


A5                                   F#5
It must be that time of year
    D5                     E5
I'm feeling that pull again
A5                                            F#5
I've got to get away from here
        D5                            E5                     
and back to where my feet can stand
A5                                                 F#5 
Back to where the trees grow tall
        D5                           E5          
and ain't a sound for miles around
A5                                       F#5 
Except for the distant call
       D5                       E5             A5
of that lonely coyote's howl

D5                                                          A5
Life's mysteries unravel when my tires hit that gravel
              E5                                              A5
and I leave the paved road far behind
A5                                                               F#5
Every breath I breathe is one step closer to me
     D5                       E5           A5
easing my worried mind


Repeat same pattern 

Way back in the sticks
is where I feel alive
in my rusty old '66
that won't even go fifty five

Nothing can compare
to the joy that I've found
every time I go back there
to my own spiritual ground

I'll make a quart of sweet corn whiskey
from ten gallons of sour mash
I'll turn a pile of firewood
into a pile of sky grey ash

If there's anything left inside me
that remembers what it's like to feel
that cold rain falling on the top of my head
and the mud beneath my heels