There's brand new range rovers all over these streets, and the people who drive em, ain't no kin to me. I guess the gun racks and six packs, all left when I did. This ain't the same town that I painted red.
With a pair of black tire marks on old airport road, racing for the pink slip in my white GTO. Well it's only 10:30 and they're all home in bed. Nah this ain't the same town that I painted red.
They'd probably look at me funny or lock me up good, if I drove down main street with a deer on my hood. No more 8 ball at bulldogs. Now it's Starbucks instead. No this ain't the same town that I painted red.
At the old golden palace on a Friday night tear, with amber lynn austin and her frosty blonde hair, now when I see her daddy, he don't want me dead. No this ain't the same town that I painted red.
Ah here we go boys
There's no faded blue jeans or old worn out boots. Guess what they call progress, has done plowed up my roots. now I'm sure there good folks, but with that being said, this ain't the same town that I painted red, no this ain't the same town that I painted red.
Writer(s): Neal Coty, James Edward "Jimmy" Melton, Jim Collins
Copyright: Figs. D Music Inc.
Lyrics powered by www.musiXmatch.com
|2||Dirt Road Scholar|
|4||This Ain't The Same Town|
|7||Old Joe Riley|
|8||This Old Raft|
|9||Back In Style|
|11||Up On The Moon|
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|2||The Old Sand Bar|
|3||My Last Broken Heart|
|4||The Little Things About Us|
|6||Back To the Front Porch|
|1||Zac Brown Band|