It ain't a needle in a vein. It ain't backstage sex. It ain't lines of cocaine on a private jet. It ain't havin' a posse full of hangers on following you around.
To this day when I hear that song. I see you standin' there on that lawn. Discount shades, store bought tan. Flip flops and cut off jeans. Somwhere between that setting sun.
It was the summer before the real world started and,. The deal was we would get to go, if we. Cleaned it up, and got it running,. Daddy's old Winnebago.
Turn the quiet up, turn the noise down. Let this ol' world just spin around. I wanna feel it swing, wanna feel it sway. And put some feel good in my soul.
I'm a long gone Waylon song on vinyl,. I'm a backroads sinner at a tent revival,. She believes in me like she believes her bible,. And loves me like Jesus does..
I was fifteen when my daddy's old man. Caught me half way through my first beer. He laughed so hard when my face turned green. He said "You come from a long line of sinners like me".
Another Friday night. There's a line of cars leaving. Home team's got an out-of-towner. Me, I'm sitting on the hood of mine drinking. I'm just a parking lot down-and-outer.
A click clacking my heart keeps making an ominous sound. That chain keeps dragging me up just to drop me back down. I think I'm over the hump enough to see the other side.
Since you turned the tables on me. I've been steady and learnin' lonely. Keepin' this turntable spinnin'. Everything from Jones to Jennings. Slowly plannin' my survival.
It's over when it's over. Ain't it, baby, ain't it. Rips ya like a dagger. Can't it baby, Can't it. Wish we could do it over. Damn it, baby, Damn it. We had it in the air, we just couldn't land it.
There's a little dive on a dead-end road. Called the Cross-Eyed Cricket Waterin' Hole. Where you can hear the sound of a steel guitar. An' get loud, an' rowdy on PBR.
Hey there, weird kid in your high-top shoes. Sitting in the back of the class; I was just like you. Always left out, never fit in. Owning that path you're walking in.
I still remember Miss Bessie singing. Black, wrinkled fingers on ivory keys. Just five years old, my church shoes a-dangling. Yeah, she's long gone and I'm still chasing this song.
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Get-ups, gimmicks. One hit wonders that don't stick. Pretty boys acting tough. Boy bands give it up. . And if it looks good on TV. It'll look good on a CD.
I love sleeping in on Saturdays. And I love college football games. I love not acting my age. And good barbeque. . Yeah I'm a fan of all the books. And anything my mama cooks.
Honey, honey. Honey you still prey on my mind. I tried thumbin', a freight train jumpin'. Baby nothin' leaves you behind. . So I jump up find me a mountain.
One, two. One, two, three. . I woke up early this mornin'. An' I'm already runnin' late. There's a list of things on as my arm. I wanna get done today.
I'm a long gone Waylon song gone by,. I'm a backroads sinner at a tent revival,. She believes in me like she believes her bible,. And loves me like Jesus does..
These four walls of Fort Worth. Are closin' in on me. My final meter's over. An' they're gonna set me free. . I can feel the fire's a burnin'. As the devil guards my door.