Ft
Do you hear that lonesome whistle
Lord it's fading like an old Hank Williams songno speeding
This thing called country Lord I'm trying to listen but I'm running through the radio and ain't none on
And I feel alone
I ain't too sure where we're going
We can't seem to remember just where we've been
My country roots lord they aint showin
Ain't nobody blowin like Big John did on Seminole wind
I want to hear it again and again and again and again I want to run I want to run on down the highway to me and this guitar is a bag of bones
A Gulf Coast cowboy doing it my way guitar picking apostille preaching the gospel of a country song
Guitar picking apostille preaching the gospel of a country song
Now gone are the days of all the real legends
Gone are the songs and with that goes the proof
Gone are the sounds of the uncaged spirit
Gone is the freedom of playing what's your feeling and gone is the truth
So in the honors of the heroes of my youth
I'm going to run I'm going to run on down the highway
To me and this guitar is a bag of bones
A Gulf Coast cowboy doing it my way
Guitar picking apostle preaching the gospel of a country song
Guitar pickin apostle Lord I'm preaching the gospel of a country song
Guitar pickin apostle preaching the gospel