A few little white rocks,
Stuck in our tires.
A couple old beer cans
Turning black in the fire.
We live our lives simple and free.
Raised to say grace.
And trust me,
we believe.

We clear our thoughts,  
Down old dirt roads.  
Always coming home
Before momma's supper got cold.
We respect our elders
We fight for family.
If you mess with my  kin,
You're messing with me.

"Living in sin is a sure ticket to hell"
Momma would say,
With her Bible in hand
Scolding us well.
We listened carefully
As she spoke of God
Learning about worship
And the price of his blood.

Our parents raised us knowing
The consequence of sin.
There's a price we must pay
For our evil ways in the end.
So we continue living life
The way we were raised.
As Southern Christians,
Remaining thankfull to Him
For each passing day.

- Brandon Stephenson