Not In Your Country Song

I don’t wear boots unless they’re black

Matching the bible verses on my back.

Youth group didn’t teach me much,

Just how to bow my head when it’s stuck up

You won’t catch me on the backroads, shaking off the rust

You have a better chance of me selling your truck

You don’t have to worry about chocolates or flowers

Just play some classic rock we can listen for hours

Sorry baby, I don’t make sweet tea.

And prefer sweats to painted on jeans

Don’t be on your tailgate saying “shake it for me”

Or your dash to be expecting my tan bare feet

Oh I know, I know where I belong

and

Hey boy,

It’s not in your country song

Don’t roll down your window tellin me to “let down my hair”

Or your red dirt road puttin magic in the air

You ready to take all this wrong

Hey boy,

Here’s my country song

I got a drink in my hand, it’s stronger than you.

Tastes like the bottle of whiskey hidden in my boots

We’re not going out on the town.

We’re not fixin to get stuck.

I’m done krankin it up.

And burnin it down.

Someone get me the hell out this town