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Sun-baked clay beneath my boots
Deep down here is where I keep my roots
Rust on the gate and a dry well-head
Dust on the road that the old folks led
And the heat-haze dances on the wire
Waiting on a little spark of fire
Oh, New Austin, you hold my hand
An old town carved out of the sand
Underneath that wide blue Texas sky (hmmmm)
Where the wild things live and the weary
die
Cicadas hum in the mesquite tree
Nothing but the horizon is free
We watch the wind-blown tumbleweed roll
Saving what is left of our soul
Oh, New Austin, you hold my hand
An old town carved out of the sand
Underneath that wide blue Texas sky (yeah)
Where the wild things live and the weary
die
Out here in the sand... (ahhhh)