Georgia, oh, Georgia. You're as sweet as a peach,
With your Waffle Houses on every corner and enough Hibachi buffets to feed Mexico,
Oh, how I love the days spent under your darkened skies,
Waltzing under those streaks of lighting and deluges that come without notice,
Or the days where the sky is clear and the humidity is as thick as butter,
If I rung out my soaked shirt it sometimes seems that I might fill a swimming pool,
Yet through the rain, sweat and chicken I find that the sweetest moments aren't glazed with sugar,
But with the smiles of strangers-made-friends that fill the hours,
The slightly awkward moments as you admit that you can't handle chili because you're white,
Or the seconds of utter confusion as you nod your head in agreement to someone who you can't understand,
Georgia, oh, Georgia. How I wish you had mountains,
Because at least than would I be able to know which way is North without my GPS,
Of course, you're still my favorite of the south eastern states,
Because my time spent with you has been the hardest and most rewarding of my life,
Would I trade these moments for gold? Well, how much gold are we talking?
No. Of course I wouldn't, I'd lose too much.
And after my battle is over and the accounts are settled I'll wave goodbye to one last sunset
And laugh as I reminisce on these two short years
Georgia, oh Georgia.