Old Six-Seven

[Verse 1]
Red clay dust in the rearview
Sun sinking low, painting you gold
Bench seat, your knee on my Levi’s
Laughing at stories I’ve never told
Radio low, you’re humming
Bare feet on the dash, hair untied
I was just killing a Tuesday
You turned it into the best ride
[Chorus]
On that dirt road in old Six-Seven
Rust on the doors, engine barely holding on
You slid a little closer, said, “This feels like heaven”
Now every backroad feels like where we belong
Falling for you, mile by mile, no question
On that dirt road in old Six-Seven
[Verse 2]
Speedometer stuck at fifty
But my heart was running ahead
You traced your name in the fogged glass
Smiled and underlined it in red
Gravel popped under the tires
Fireflies chasing our taillights
I swear I knew I would love you
By the end of that first slow ride
[Chorus]
On that dirt road in old Six-Seven
Rust on the doors, engine barely holding on
You slid a little closer, said, “This feels like heaven”
Now every backroad feels like where we belong
Falling for you, mile by mile, no question
On that dirt road in old Six-Seven
[Bridge]
Someday we might trade up
Chrome, leather, all that shine (oh yeah)
But I’ll still see your smile
Every time that gravel flies
[Chorus]
On that dirt road in old Six-Seven
Rust on the doors, engine barely holding on
You slid a little closer, said, “This feels like heaven”
Now every backroad feels like where we belong
Falling for you, mile by mile, still guessing?
No, I found forever in old Six-Seven

country, Warm modern country with male vocals, mid-tempo groove. Brushed snare and soft kick under twangy electric and acoustic guitars, subtle organ pad in the background. Verses stay intimate and close-mic’d; chorus widens with stacked harmonies, bright telecaster fills, and a singalong, windows-down feel. Short guitar lick leads into the bridge, then final chorus lifts with extra backing “woahs” and a held vocal tag.