I know where I come from. How 'bout you?. I don't need baggy clothes. Or rings in my nose to be cool. . The scars on my knuckles. Match these scuffs on these cowboy boots.
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Well i used to wake the mornin. Befor the rooster crowed. Searchin for soda bottles to get my self some dough. Brought em down to the corner. Down to the country store.
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Momma used to teach,. And Preacher used to preach,. there's angels watching over me,. their here to shield you,. so you dont yield to the devil,. when your soul gets weak,.
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This town, she is a temptress.. A siren with gold eyes, she'll cut you with her kindness,. She will lead you with her lies.. She's been called a glistening devil..
I wasn't trying to do no harm. I was just trying to prove I was tough. What I lacked in years I made up in guts. . I ain't saying it was smart or that I had some master plan.
I got a hard head, I get that from my dad. And I can overreact maybe just a tad. I put up walls to show the world I'm tough. When I don't get my way I get difficult.
Muddy water coming out of the sink in there. And dirty sheets up on the bed. I can't get no picture on the TV screen. I can't stand the ones up in my head.
Without you here everything's in black and white. Without you here I'm upside down. Without you here honey I'm a melody. Living in a world that can't hear sound.
It was my senior year, I just turned eighteen. I was a Friday night hero with division one dreams. I had an offer on the table, a four year ride. 'Til that fourth and two, and twenty four dive.
Use every crayon, color that you've got. A fishing pole sinks faster than a tackle box. Nothing turns a day around like licking a mixing bowl. I learned that from a three year old.
She was pacing back and forth on her front porch. I pulled up slinging gravel in my Daddy's Ford. She cried all the way to Johnson's store. I kept the motor running and parked by the door.
I remember waitin' by the curb with Mr. Murphy. When daddy picked me up from school his eyes were red. We drove to the hospital in a hurry. Where my family gathered 'round my grandpa's bed.
They're the in crowd, we're the other ones. It's a different kind of cloth that we're cut from. We let our colors show, where the numbers ain't. With the paint where there ain't supposed to be paint.
(One, two, three). . These boots have counted off a many of band. Playin' one night roadhouse stands. For tips an' empty rooms. These boots have stood toe-to-toe.
The only joint my mother burned was on the rural route. She sparked in old man tater's woods so she wouldn't be found out. Turned off the dome light and snuck off by herself.
Only fools would race down Grist Mill Road. Let alone in angry weather. That's what I tell everyone I know. Now that I know better. . That's a lesson I wish I would've learned.