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[Verse 1]
Old flatbed Ford on a red‑clay lane,
Backfire pops like a box‑car train.
Moonshine grin underneath my brim,
Friday‑night sin runs rim‑to‑rim.
[Chorus]
Ride along, feel that four‑speed roar,
Bonfire sparks on the creek‑side shore.
Crank up Hank ’til the speakers fry,
Swing your girl ’neath a cornbread sky.
Same two chords keep rollin’ strong,
You’ll sell your soul for that old‑school song.
[Verse 2]
You’ve heard tailgate tales of Daisy Dukes,
Honky‑tonk heroes and barroom jukes.
Just wait ’til she spins when the fiddle slides,
Boot‑heel thunder where the river rides.
[Chorus]
Hang loose, watch the sawdust twirl,
Neon halo ’round a Wrangler girl.
Let her tune that country dial,
She’ll steal your heart in a single mile.
Same two chords—truth we own,
Once it hooks ya, it won’t leave ya alone.
[Bridge]
Come Sunday morn, the pew sits still,
Choir‑house echoes across the hill.
Bow your head when the preacher speaks,
Grace runs deep in the rolling creeks.
[Chorus]
Fire up that Ford when the prayers are done,
Carry that hymn like a loaded gun.
Same two chords on a beat‑up box,
Holy riot under feed‑store clocks.
Cornbread sky and the dust we stir,
That same old song still cures what hurts.
