Fresh page, new pen. Where do I begin?. Words fail, tears come. I need someone. To take the thoughts I almost think. And carry them to God for me. . Deep breath, exhale.
Come on. Oh boy, oh yeah. I, I, I want you baby. . Oh, so much love that you've never seen. Let's make love, put your trust in me. Don't you listen to what they told you.
I was born and raised in the Red Clay Hills of Texas. In the land where the grass gets only beer can tall. That's where I learned to cuss and fight and chew Brown Mule Tobacco.
Sweetest days of childhood, playing in the deep woods. Stomping through the creek and feeling, oh, so much alive. We're camping in the forest, we join the cricket chorus.
Way up high in the Sierra peaks. Where the yellow jack pines grow tall. Old Sandy Bob and Buster Jiggs. Had a roundup camp last fall. . Oh, they'd taken the horses and the runnin' irons.
Becky has a house on abundant life Boulevard. A good name, a good family, and butterflies in her yard. Becky loves Jesus and really wants to make Him proud.
Well, there's always been groups of people. That never could see eye to eye. And I always thought if they ever had. A chance to sit down and talk face to face.
I'm just a workin' cowboy this ranch I'm on ain't mine. But I got a bed in the bunk houseand a place come supper time. I don't get much for wages but it's good enough for me.
Prayers went on but it never came down. Prayers went on but it never came down. Prayers went on but it never came down. . Prayers went on but it never came down.
I left home with a suitcase, my songs and my guitar. Headed down to Nashville gonna try to be a star. The Nashville folks they made me feel like I was right at home.
He rode His wagon into town. A gaudy spectacle. And every gray November brought Him there. Always entertaining, prestidigitating. Pulling rabbits from thin air.
The old man used to dream of the fortunes he'd seek. Now he lives in a room where you pay by the week. His hands are all battered and his pony's gone lame.
Hear a newborn baby cry. Hear the farmers pray for rain. One more soldier gives his life. A homeless man begs for change. But change won't come easily.
I can't feel You movin' inside. I don't hear Your voice whisperin' in the night. And I've never seen You with these eyes. Am I a fool, am I just a fool?.
There's a rodeo in Montana where they come from miles around. Where they throw the hooligan and a bunch of beer cans. All over that little cow town from Friday night to Sunday afternoon.
Them bareback horses are the only thing. They make your back hurt they make your bell ring. They're hard on tailbones and they make your neck sore. But when it's all over you're craving some more.
Every day is a journal page. Every man holds a quill and ink. And there's plenty of room for writing in. All we do is believe and think. . So will you compose a curse.
I was six years old, my brother was ten. One July day came runnin' in. Seen a ferris wheel at the edge of town. So, of course, we headed on down. . Well, it took us an hour to walk that far.
Love, how did I find you?. Was I even breathing before I knew your name?. Who could ever have planned this?. Arranged the whole planet to all turn out this way?.
It was dark and I was driving down a lonely Texas road. The night was hot and sleep pulled at my eyes. I was thinking 'bout the wild times and the women that I'd had.