I'm a western North Carolinean 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 to cool this restless mind
Found myself on a lonesome journey the streets of gold I tried to find
The Indian spirit softly whispered and cooled the blood of the restless mind
I'm going back to the Smokey Mountains and breathe the air that fit my soul
Now there we read in the leaves of history and there I'll find my streets of gold
