| I’ve been living in this town, for quite sometime
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| It’s been eighteen years since I crossed that county line
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| I sold almost everything that was mine
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| Now I’m leaving town, with nothing but that bottom line
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| A hundred dollars and a half of a tank of gas
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| The shirt that’s on my back, and an beat up Rangers cap
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| 200 miles to go, who would believe that
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| I would go this far, without turning back
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| So here I go, packing light to head down that road
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| And I know, this life I’ll lead will beat on my soul
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| But I’ll still have my pride
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| Nothing but that bottom line
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| The band’s been on the road now, for quite sometime
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| Hitting all the cities, neon sign to neon sign
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| Drowning in straight bourbon whiskey, beer and too much wine
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| Playing our songs for nothing but that bottom line
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| But on that stage each night, we’re captured by the sound
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| Singing these songs we write, to a different town
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| ‘Cause there are people who believe in what we’ve found
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| They like the song we sing and that’s why we hang around
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| Thirty years from now on that marquee sign
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| You’ll see our name lit up misspelled, and live tonight
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| But we don’t care, cause we play music that we like
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| Almost for free, for nothing but that bottom line |