| I come from a long line of boozers and users
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| Bruisers and losers, yeah
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| The deck was stacked against me
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| Daddy died when I was fifteen
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| The only thing he left me
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| Was a belt with our name branded on the back
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| And this half-drunk bottle of whiskey
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| So I cried myself to sleep at night
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| Praying Lord get me out of this double wide
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| A backwoods boy raised with guns and knives
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| But it’s this guitar that saved my life
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| Drowned my sorrow in a melody
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| At a time when God forgot about me
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| When no one was there to sing along
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| With a son of a, son of a, son of a song
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| Momma always fought for me
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| As she built the man she knew I’d be
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| Prayed I’d always spread my wings and fly
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| Now I’m up here on this stage
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| I know I still got a long damn way
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| To go but I can feel the winds of change
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| With every single song I sing
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| Now I tuck my kids in bed most nights
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| Got a house now, hell with a double wide
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| Still a backwoods boy with guns and knives
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| And I play this guitar for my sweet wife
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| Still get lost in a melody
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| And all is good between God and me
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| Thankin' everybody who sings along
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| With a son of a, son of a, son of a song
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| Oh
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| I’m a son, I’m a son, I’m a son of a song (Oh yeah)
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| I’m a son, I’m a son, I’m a son of a song
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| I’m a son, I’m a son, I’m a son of a song
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| I’m a son, I’m a son, I’m a son of a song
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| I come from a long line
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| Of boozers and users
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| Bruisers and losers, yeah |