Hollywood don't do what it once could do. I used to wake up and write me a song before noon. So I packed my dusty bags one night, grabbed an old guitar, and I caught a red-eye flight. In search of a dream underneath a Tennesee Moon. I fell in love to an old Hank Williams' Tune. Makes me wonder, "Is it the same moon Hank played under?" Touched down and she stole my heart right away. Began to think for the first time I might stay. And, when I heard that lonesome whistle moan, Knew I'd finally found my way back home. In search of a dream underneath a Tennesse Moon. I fell in love to an old Hank Williams' tune. And I wonder, "Is it the same moon Hank stood under, When he sang about Jumblaya and bein' lonesome enough to cry?" And I can hear the echoes in the sounds of his guitar. And his words still paint a picture in my heart. Yeah, in search of a dream underneath a Tennesse Moon. I fell in love to an Hank Williams' tune.
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