I'm a Western North Carolinian

Made of stone and red clay soil

Got Cherokee blood deep within me

When I was born it began to boil

I left my home across the mountains

To see what kind of life I'd find

Searched the world in all directions

To try and cool this restless mind

On this lonesome journey the streets of gold

I tried to find the Indian spirit

Softly whispered and cooled the blood of a restless mind

I'm going back to the Smoky Mountains

And breathe the air that fed my soul

I'll bury me deep in the leaves of history

And there I'll find my streets of gold