| She likes daisies over diamonds
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| You ought to see her face when I bring them home
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| She spends most her morning talking to Jesus
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| And at night it’s wine and an old Keith Whitley song
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| Yeah, she makes me sing along
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| She’s just like that, that’s just how she is
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| She’s a honeysuckle sweet but boy, she’s a ball of fire
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| She’s pure as rain on Sunday
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| And for me, well, she’d walk through hell and back
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| She’s just like that
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| She don’t complain about too much
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| But ain’t afraid to stop me when I’m in the wrong
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| Putting up with me ain’t always easy
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| How that woman does it, heaven only knows
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| 'Cause hell, I sure don’t
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| She’s just like that, that’s just how she is
|
| She’s a honeysuckle sweet but boy, she’s a ball of fire
|
| She’s pure as rain on Sunday
|
| And for me, she’d walk through hell and back
|
| She’s just like that
|
| She’s just like that, that’s just how she is
|
| She’s a honeysuckle sweet but boy, she’s a ball of fire
|
| She’s pure as rain on a Sunday
|
| And for me, she’d walk through hell and back
|
| She’s just like that, she’s just like that |