It's just an old beat up truck,
Some say that I should trade up
Now that I got some jangle in my pocket.
But what they don't understand
Is it's the miles that make a man.
I wouldn't trade that thing in for a rocket.
What they don't know is my dad and me–
We drove her out to Tennessee
And she's still here and now he's gone
So I hold on.
It's just an old beat up box,
Its rusty strings across the top
It probably don't look like much to you.
But these dents and scratches in the wood,
Yeah, that's what makes it sound so good.
To me it's better than brand new.
You see this here flat top guitar,
Has had my back in a million bars
Singing every country song
So I hold on.
To the things I believe in
My faith, your love, our freedom
To the things I can count on
To keep me going strong
Yeah, I hold on, I hold on.
Like the stripes to the flag,
Like a boy to his dad
I can't change who I am, right or wrong
So I hold on.
Yeah, baby, looking at you right now,
There ain't never been no doubt
Without you I'd be nothing
So if you ever worry about
Me walking out
Yeah, let me tell you something.
I hold on.
I hold on.
Can you hear me, baby?
I hold on
Yea,
I hold on...
To the things I believe in
My faith, your love, our freedom
To the things I can count on
To keep me going strong
I hold on
Yeah, I hold on...
I hold on...