| Well, I remember Friday nights,
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| We were full of bull and natural light
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| Rock stars under the parking lot lights
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| Killin' time in a little town
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| Window’s tinted up, tailgates down
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| Running our mouths, riding up and down
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| Just looking for a fight
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| We heard all our stories a thousand times
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| Somebody go on and tell 'em again, ain’t nobody gonna mind
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| Here’s to the good ole boy, the guitars that made the noise
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| And all the girls that we annoyed, and the ones we kissed goodnight,
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| To the trucks that drove us home, secrets we never told
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| And all the talks on old dirt roads that somehow changed our lives
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| Here’s to the nights we don’t remember and the friends we won’t forget
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| Like I still smell the crawfish stand, diving head first in the morning drink
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| Standing in the lake watching water skis go by,
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| Got a pretty girl sitting on my shoulders and another pretty girl trying to
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| push her over
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| My boys on the bank letting the horse shoes fly
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| Well, I can still see it now, all of us pilin' in our trucks and heading back
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| into town
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| Here’s to the good ole boy, the guitars that made the noise
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| And all the girls that we annoyed, and the ones we kissed goodnight,
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| And to trucks that drove us home, the secrets we never told
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| And all the talks on old dirt roads that somehow changed our lives
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| Here’s to the nights we don’t remember and the friends we won’t forget
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| Here’s to last call when we didn’t care, holding' our shots up in the air
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| A bunch of reckless boys, man I swear, it’s a wonder we survived
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| To the trucks that drove us home, the secrets we never told
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| And all the talks on old dirt roads that somehow changed our lives
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| Here’s to the nights we don’t remember
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| Here’s to the nights we don’t remember and the friends we won’t forget |