| When a preacher talks of heaven, he paints it real nice
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| He says, you better get to livin', better get to livin' right
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| If you’re gonna get your mansion, he’s been saving for your soul
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| If you’re gonna do your dancing on city streets of gold
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| But unless it’s got a dirt road leading down to a fishing hole
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| With a little piece of moonlight, a couple cans of Bud Light
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| Where I can cuddle with my baby and I can pull her real close
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| No, I don’t wanna go unless heaven’s got a dirt road
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| You better quit your drinking, you better quit your smoking too
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| Be for trading in your backseat Saturday nights for Sunday morning pew
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| Well, I’ve never been nothing, nothing more than what you see
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| Like my truck, I’m made for running, down to a midnight creek
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| So unless it’s got a dirt road leading down to a fishing hole
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| With a little piece of moonlight, a couple cans of Bud Light
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| Where I can cuddle with my baby and I can pull her real close
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| No, I don’t wanna go unless heaven’s got a dirt road
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| All of this flying high, gonna leave ya falling short
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| Leave you knock, knock, knocking on heaven’s basement door
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| But one thing’s for sure
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| Unless it’s got a dirt road leading down to a fishing hole
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| With a little piece of moonlight, a couple cans of Bud Light
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| Where I can cuddle with my baby and I can pull her real close
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| No, I don’t wanna go unless heaven’s got a dirt road |