| Way back in my memory theres a scene that I recall
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| Of a little run-down cabin in the woods
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| Where my dad never promised that our blue moon would turn gold
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| But he laid awake nights wishin that it would.
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| When the world was on our radio, hard work was on our minds.
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| We lived our day-to-day in plain dirt fashion,
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| With ol overalls and cotton balls all strapped across your back
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| Man, its hard to make believe there aint nothing wrong.
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| But momma kept the Bible read and daddy kept our family fed,
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| And somewhere in between I must have grown
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| Cause someday I was dreamin that a song that I was singin
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| Takes me down the road to where I want to go.
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| Now I know, its a long hard road
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| Sometimes I remember when I stay up late at night,
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| When the sun-up came, we got up and went
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| In the shadows of a working day, our moonlight hours spent
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| Singin songs along with grammas radio.
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| Now Im beatin down a ol blacktop road, sleepin in a sack,
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| Livin in my memories all in vain
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| cause those city lights aint all that bright, compared to what its like
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| To see lightning bugs go dancin in the rain.
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| Momma played the guitar then, and daddy made the saw blade bend,
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| And raindrops played the tin roof like a drum.
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| But I just kept on dreamin that a song that I was singin
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| Takes me down the road to where my name is known.
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| Now Im gone, and its a long hard road
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| Yes, I know, its a long hard road. |