Tha past will al-ways come a-callin', no man can es-cape that. South-stuck winds ain't change, and longleafs don't sway in the face of some-horror, they seen it all-all 'cause they ain't new to this land. The men that lay 'ere and what beendone c-ain't be chang'd, can't be chang-ed by no one. And so they remain, swelter'd air chokin' ya fast'er en tha fate which 'as risen high a-bove ev'en the high-steeple an promis'd the next fall, so be careful wher-ya tread, old tales don't have no roots 'fer nothin', no, they got roots that send shoots back-up 'cause they ain't ne'ver die, no, they send soft-leaves back up an you best hope you ain't come cross it. All a mans' got-es his wit an past, beyond that faith, an neither ev'r seem too much 'gainst the truth that stays standin' still be-hind 'em.