Lyrics
Cotton Gin ©
Who really cares about a cotton gin
Tear it down, rip it up, it's just history parting
We’ll build a high rise, made of steal and tin. Who really cares about a cotton gin?
In The year of 1890, the southern states still poor. Ashes from Sherman's fire still fall upon the floors.
The people of Atlanta had faith in God and in the land. They knew cotton built the Bible Belt and it'd build it back again.
Good ol Mr Whitney, was a genius of his time.
He built the gin, to put an end to slavery of mankind.
Like so many before him, his good intentions got detoured. And that machine just made the man say more, more, more.
Years they rolled on by, still that building stood strong,
became a place for young troubadours to sing their songs
That City council was preaching progress, and praying to an all-mighty dime.
How could they tear down so much history just to build some high rise?
"Who really cares about a cotton gin”
Tear it down, rip it up, it's just history parting
Replace it with a high rise, made of steal and tin. Who really cares about a cotton gin?