Cold Hands, Empty Hearts

Up there in the city where the snow don’t melt, They’re selling their souls for a dollar on a shelf, Talking ‘bout freedom while they live on their knees, Drinking weak coffee and calling it sweet. Cold hands, empty hearts, Yankee pride falls apart. You can preach all night ‘bout your liberty, But you ain’t got nothing like the South has me. They’ve got big tall towers but no backbone, Hiding behind laws they don’t stand alone. Write a thousand rules ‘cause they’re scared of the fight, But a Southern man’s word is his bond and his right. Cold hands, empty hearts, Yankee pride falls apart. You can preach all night ‘bout your liberty, But you ain’t got nothing like the South has me. From New York lights to New England snow, They talk real loud but they got no soul. While the North grows colder, the South burns bright — We’re the fire that keeps this nation alive. Cold hands, empty hearts, Yankee pride falls apart. You can preach all night ‘bout your liberty, But you ain’t got nothing — no, you ain’t got nothing, Like the South has me.