|
|||||||||||||
|
|
GARTH BROOKS >> Merchandise Links
GARTH BROOKS
(L. Cordle/R. Scaife) First time he saw the ground get busted He was 10, it was 1952 His daddy worked hard From sun up til sundown And the goin' got tough Behind them old gray mules The farm grew to be a money maker And the house he lived in Grew up room by room The boy worked hard But soon got tired of farmin' So he slipped away one night B'neath the harvest moon His neck was red As alabama clay But the city's call Pulled him away He's got a factory job And run's a big machine He don't miss the farm Or the fields of green Now the city's just a prison Without fences His job is just A routine he can't stand And at night he derams of wide open spaces Gresh dirt tween his toes and on his hands Then one day a picture came Inside a letter Of a young girl With a baby in her arms And the words she wrote Would change his life forever So he went to raise his family On the farm His neck was red As alabama clay Now he's going home This time to stay Where the roots run deep On the family tree And the tractor rolls Through the fields of green His neck was red As alabama clay Now he's going home This time to stay Where the roots run deep On the family tree And the tractor rolls Through the fields of green His neck is red As alababma clay
|
|
