It’s cattle guards and old barb wire, shooting birds in the fall, and laying in the truck bed with my girl. It’s the smell of mesquite campfire, shooting Makers with the boys, and thanking God for giving me this world. So take me to an old stock tank, or the Devil’s river bank, that fishing hole that stirs my memories. Take me to a cold deer stand or shooting guns at old beer cans. You won’t find street signs where I wanna be. I wouldn’t give a nickel to have it paved in gold. Everything I love is at the end of a dirt road.
Posted on: Thu, 24 Apr 2014 15:29:56 +0000