It’s that elm shade, red rust clay you grew up on That plowed-up ground that your dad damned his luck on That post-game party field you circle up on And when it rains you get stuck on Drift a cloud back behind county roads that you run up The mud on her jeans that she peeled off and hung up Her blue-eyed summertime smile looks so good that it hurts Makes you wanna build a ten percent down white picket fence house on this dirt. One of my favorite Florida Georgia Line songs.
Posted on: Tue, 30 Sep 2014 21:49:40 +0000
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