No one now knows too much about these woods, They got lost, they wouldn't know where to go. Tribe's been gone a long time, small farmers got blowed out, Maybe there ain't even that much left to know. You can strip the trees, foul the streams, try to hide in a progressive dream. Ease into the comfort that kills. Before I do that, I'll grab my pack, And disappear with Billy from the hills.
Blood flows back and back and back and back, Like a river from a secret source.
Women sing in me that song from the ancient fire, I just open my mouth and what comes out gives me chills. I got my song from a secret place, I got my face from Billy from the hills. A 40-inch barrel on that shotgun, Steel traps in a cane pack on his back. If you're looking for a helping hand, He'll give you one, you know he will. If you're looking for trouble, huh-uh, turn around, You don't want to mess with Billy from the hills.