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I used to wander down Copperline on Fridays towards Morgan Creek with my dog Hercules chasing snakes. Why'd they call it the Copperline? I dunno - even the old folks round there never knew. Copper head? Copper beech? Copper kettles, copper coil? I really don't know.

I remember one summer night I slipped out down to the woods after supper. I smelled all this woodsmoke and turpentine. Saw my daddy moving strangely like he was in a trance; he was never the same after he came back from the war. Reckon the moonshine helped him forget. I dunno.

I think about the first time I kissed a girl. That was down on the Copperline too - just like out of a romance book and I felt that the sky opened. I fell hard for that girl, and all I knew was I wanted it to last all night. I woke the next morning with Hercules barking, and heard the brids sing, and I knew that life would never be the same again.

Man, if I could go back to these days of innocence and freedom. We can't, of course. My area of Morgan Creek has been torn down and down the Copperline it's all spec houses and plywood. Back then I lived in the moment; couldn't see past the end of the week. Me 'n' Hercules.
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I don't know what the song is about, but I do know that it's a beautiful song, and the imagery contained within takes me to places I like going.