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[Verse 1]
Mailman dropped another bruise-blue bill,
Wallet’s thinner than a sawgrass quill.
But buried under late-fee screams
Lay a sun-bleached photo cracked at the seams.
Bench-seat Chevy, July-night heat,
Crickets crowd-surfing that back-road beat.
Twelve-gauge laughter, bottle-rocket sparks,
Scratchin’ our names in the county park.
[Chorus]
Red-clay renegades, jukebox hurricanes,
Sweat-stained prophets of the two-lane plains.
Fuel gauge flirting with the capital “E,”
Raise one high for the chaos—wild and free.
That was us.
[Verse 2]
Meet for a game, pretend we’ve grown,
Then the scoreboards fade and the legend’s on.
Talk gets loud like a two-lane hymn,
Braggin’ on nights we forgot to end.
Gulf-breeze kiss and a Mardi-Gras grin,
Truck-bed throne rolling bourbon within.
Flip-cup kings with a half-shot crown,
Turned the strip to a carnival town.
[Chorus]
Red-clay renegades, jukebox hurricanes,
Sweat-stained prophets of the two-lane plains.
Fuel gauge flirting with the capital “E,”
Raise one high for the chaos—wild and free.
That was us.
[Bridge]
Clock keeps ticking, but the needle sticks
When a bar-room band hits those drone-string licks.
Gray in the beard, yet the wild won’t fade—
One chord strikes and we’re back in the parade.
[Chorus]
Red-clay renegades, jukebox hurricanes,
Sweat-stained prophets of the two-lane plains.
Fuel gauge flirting with the capital “E,”
Raise one high for the chaos—wild and free.
That was, that is, that’ll always be us.
