Chris Lane Lyrics

I grew up here where there ain't much blacktop The headlights on the interstate don't stop Any man worth his weight plows a straight row And all the money is the grain in the silo And there's just enough home grown pretty girls Growin' up around here that like to sip cold beer It's a blink and you miss it kind of town The kind of place that makes the world go round My wheels have rolled all this red dirt My hands have got scars from the hard work Me and my friends unwind on the outskirts Our Friday nights might get a little black and blue I'm out here ridin' high on a lift kit I see the world through a crack where a rock hit I am who I am I do what I do Lookin' at life from a broken windshield view A truck bed's got a half roll of barb wire A bale of hay and a patched up spare tire Cross on a chain hangin' from a rearview Fifth in a brown paper sack packin'eighty proof Well sun droppin' off into that cornfield Th