He likes his, coffee black first thing in the morning
A cup or two usually, gets him going
He puts on his boots and cranks up, that old '79
Weather man says there's a storm warnin'
Well he pulls down his hat and keeps his wheels'a rollin'
Chaising the dreams of a back forty kind of life
Well his claim to fame is a last name
On a dead end county road sign
He's got, callused hands and a callused heart
But that suits him just fine
Makin it day to day, working his life away
Tryin'a find a little piece of mind
Oooah, but that's his bloodline
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There's a chair on a porch that his gran-daddy left him
Where he sits and ponders on, when things were different
When a man could keep what he earned with a little help from above
It's getting harder to make ends meet in the middle
Selling his life away, little by little
But something inside him says
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