Georgia Meets Bachata

Yeah... let the wind blow through the pines. Un ritmo suave bajo el cielo del sur... [Verse 1] Sun is sinking low over red clay roads Carrying the weight of a heavy-sweet load Spanish moss hanging like a silver veil Listening closely to a southern tale And the air smells sweet like the humid rain A quiet rhythm echoing down the lane. [Chorus] Oh, Georgia pines, swaying in the breeze Dancing to a rhythm underneath the trees With your hand in mine, moving to the beat A hundred miles of country at our feet From the red clay hills to the ocean side Let the bachata roll with a southern tide. Porch swing creaking to a 4/4 time Sipping sweet tea, feeling so sublime The crickets sing backup to the guitar string There's magic in the water that the mountains bring No need to rush when the night is this deep Keeping promises the stars want to keep. [Chorus] Oh, Georgia pines, swaying in the breeze Dancing to a rhythm underneath the trees With your hand in mine, moving to the beat A hundred miles of country at our feet From the red clay hills to the ocean side Let the bachata roll with a southern tide. Under the Georgia pines... Suave.