(Verse 1) Streetlights stop at the Dairy Queen sign, Where the pavement ends and the gravel begins to shine. Population thirty-six hundred and holding strong, A single stoplight, where nothing ever feels too wrong. The air smells like cut hay and yesterday's rain, And everyone here knows your daddy's first name. This little dot on the map, it's where I grew up, But my real education was poured in a dusty truck.
(Chorus) Gotta get out on those county roads, where the speed limit lies, Past the leaning fence rows and the endless skies. CR 12, CR 44, they know my heart's tune, Singing softly underneath the Harvest Moon. They're the arteries of this quiet little place, Where you slow down time and you pick up the pace. Rolling miles of asphalt and forgotten stone, The county roads, they're the only way home.
(Verse 2) The old Ford rattles on the washboard track, Every dent and every scratch, there's no turning back. We learned to drive out here, beneath the tall pine trees, Kissed our first crush with the windows down and the breeze. There's a broken-down barn leaning into the west, And a weathered wooden cross, putting souls to rest. No GPS needed, I know every dip and bend, These roads have been my trusty, silent friend.
(Chorus) Gotta get out on those county roads, where the speed limit lies, Past the leaning fence rows and the endless skies. CR 12, CR 44, they know my heart's tune, Singing softly underneath the Harvest Moon. They're the arteries of this quiet little place, Where you slow down time and you pick up the pace. Rolling miles of asphalt and forgotten stone, The county roads, they're the only way home.
(Bridge) When the world gets too loud and the city lights burn bright, I close my eyes and I picture this fading moonlight. That easy rhythm, the tires humming low, It's the only peace of mind I'll ever truly know.
(Guitar Solo - Simple, twangy, and nostalgic)
(Chorus) Gotta get out on those county roads, where the speed limit lies, Past the leaning fence rows and the endless skies. CR 12, CR 44, they know my heart's tune, Singing softly underneath the Harvest Moon. They're the arteries of this quiet little place, Where you slow down time and you pick up the pace. Rolling miles of asphalt and forgotten stone, The county roads, they're the only way home.
(Outro) Yeah, the county roads... Just gotta point the headlights down the gravel... And let 'em take you where you need to be. (Fade out with the sound of a truck driving away on a dirt road).
GodHarmony518
