| Shotgun in my daddy’s truck
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| Eight years old and acting tough
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| He smiled at me and said, «You shift the gears»
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| He would search that FM dial
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| And I would count down every mile
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| Til the station out of Tulsa came in clear
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| It was Earl Thomas Conley on the radio
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| It punched me in the gut, man, it rattled my soul
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| I’m talking 'bout a good country song
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| Makes you smile, makes you hurt
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| Leaves you hanging on every word
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| A good country song
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| Makes you love, makes you leave
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| Raise some hell or hit your knees
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| All I know is I think of home
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| Grab my guitar and strum along
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| Kick on back and sip me something strong
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| When I hear a good country song
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| While hip-hop, rap, and rock were cool
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| I was in my basement getting schooled
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| On George and Keith and Vern and Alabama
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| I was learning 'bout those neon lights
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| Wasted days and wasted nights
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| And honky-tonks from Texas to Montana
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| And when my fingers found the fret board
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| I close my eyes and sing
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| I swear that beat up guitar only played one thing
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| I’m talking 'bout a good country song
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| Makes you smile, makes you hurt
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| Leaves you hanging on every word
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| A good country song
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| Makes you love, makes you leave
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| Raise some hell or hit your knees
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| All I know is I think of home
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| Grab my guitar and strum along
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| Kick on back and sip me something strong
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| When I hear a good country song
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| Yeah, it makes me think of days long gone
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| Miss my dad and call my mom
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| Run, laugh, and pray, and drink 'til dawn
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| When I hear a good country
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| A good old country, a good country song |