| My grandmother owned a nightclub on the arkansas-okahoma line
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| momma put me on a greyhound, and i went
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| to stay with her in the summertime
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| i’d box up those empty longnecks and stack’em in the back and make
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| a hand
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| then at night she’d let me sneak out of the kitchen and sit in with the band
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| yes, i have sacked some quarterbacks and broke my share of bones along the way
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| i knew it wouldnt
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| last forever, semi-pro always means semi-paid
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| i started climbin’drillin’rig, im oil field trash and
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| proud as i can be then i took my songs and guitar and sang’em to a man from tennesse
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| i’ve played every beer joint tavern from new york city out to pasadena
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| every corn dog fair and rodeo
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| and sold out every basketball arena
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| i like to get down with my boys in afghanistan and baghdad city
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| too
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| i am a red, white and blue blood graduate of honkytonk U a star can’t burn forever, and the brightest ones will someday lose their shine
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| but the glass wont
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| ever be half empty in my optimistic mind
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| i’ll still have a song to sing and a band to turn it up and
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| play it loud
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| as long as there’s a bar room with a corner stage and a honkytonk crowd
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| ive played every beer joint tavern from new york city out to pasadena
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| every corn dog fair and rodeo
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| and sold out ever basketball arena
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| i like to get down with my boys in afghanistan and baghdad city
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| too
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| son im a red, white, and blue blood graduate of honkytonk U that’s right a red, white, and blue
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| blood graduate of honkytonk U |