Alan E.Jackson |
Gone Country |
She's been playing that room on the strip for ten years in Vegas Every night she looks in the mirror but she only ages She's been readin' 'bout Nashville and all the records that everybody's buying Says, "I'm a simple girl myself, grew up on Long Island" So she packs her bags to try her hand Says this might be my last chance She's gone country, look at them boots She's gone country, back to her roots She's gone country, new kind of suit She's gone country, here she comes Well the folk scene's dead, but he's holding out in the village He's been writing songs, speaking out against wealth and privilege "I don't believe in money, but a man could make himself a killin' 'Cause some of that stuff don't sound much different than Dylan I hear down there it's changed you see not as backward as they used to be" He's gone country, look at them boots He's gone country, back to his roots He's gone country, new kind of suit He's gone country, here he comes He commutes to L.A., but he's got a house in the valley Bills are piling up the pop scene just ain't on a rally Says, "Honey, I'm a serious composer, schooled in voice and composition With the crime and smog these days, this ain't no place for children Lord, it sounds so easy, this shouldn't take long Be back in the money in no time at all" He's gone country, look at them boots He's gone country, back to his roots He's gone country, new kind of suit He's gone country, here he comes He's gone country He's gone country Yeah, he's gone country, new kind of walk He's gone country, new kind of talk He's gone country, look at them boots He's gone country, oh back to his roots |
Vytištěno dne: 22. 11. 2024, 00:25:38 Tento text najdete na adrese: http://www.midisoubory.cz/ |