Tekst:
Eric Church

Workin' all this overtime is good at keepin' me occupied Hell with the stress It ain't killed me yet Doctor says I gotta quit Get on the wagon and off

I believe that gas is too damn high An' there ain't nothin' more American than Mama's apple pie I believe in love, I believe in peace But I don't believe

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

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

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

One, two, three These boots have counted off many a band Playin' one night roadhouse stands for tips an' empty rooms These boots have stood toe-to-toe

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

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'

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