She said to take a left we got a story to write. And it ain't pennies that are going in the fountain tonight. I'm looking all around, she said nobody knows.
Daddy was a farmer, like his Daddy was before. It only seemed fitting, I walk through the same door. I met my wife in high school, she was the prettiest I'd ever seen.
This world is far from small. And her heart is the center of it all. And there's a river that runs through hills, and it's never still. . Listen closely to the sky.
Theres a line of thunderheads. movin in from the west. it might finally rain today. but the crops are already dead. . and at home theres a woman whos lonely.
There's faded paint down Walnut Street.. That's the cotton gin where the farmers meet.. There's the water tower I never had the guts to climb.. Sums up how some folks live and other folks die trying..
High heels and cocktails, she ain't just boots and beer. She's the living proof there's something in the water 'round here. Well it doesn't matter if it's noon or night.
Hells gates on fire. Two million acres gone. When the going gets tough. The tough gets moving on. Morning noon or night. The fighters take chances. If grit was worth its weight in water.
I know you're flipping through the channels and there's nothing on. And the radio ain't playing none of your favorite songs. I know the cars driving by have got you thinking about.