Her toe prints on the windshield,
cutoffs shorts fit just right,
smooth legs and painted nails,
her tank top is a sight.
Head bobbing to the rhythm
“If that ain’t country” rocks,
even though its outlaw music,
she still pops and locks.
Looking at me smiling,
hair blowing in the wind,
we’re just driving around
who knows where this will end.
Blowing up the speakers,
speeding down gravel roads,
stopping in mesquite tree shade,
hell no we won’t get towed,
tangled up in the sunshine,
in the middle of the day,
we don’t need a barn,
for a roll in the hay.
Her toe prints in the mud,
our clothes hanging in the tree,
the creek pool is just right,
to be country free.
Tan lines reminds me
of a Texas back roads map,
after a little traveling,
it's time for a nap.
A splash of water in my face,
as crickets start to sing,
the sun is fading fast,
who knows what night will bring.
Blowing up the speakers,
speeding down gravel roads,
stopping near the creek bed,
hell no we won’t get towed,
tangled up in the evening,
at the ending of the day,
we don’t need a barn,
for a roll in the hay.
Her toe prints in the dust,
she leans on the rack,
calling all our friends,
let's party way out back.
Cooler opens and tops pop,
Willie Nelson blares out loud
a circle of pick up trucks,
a pasture party crowd.
Dancing on the tailgates
Silver stars overhead
we party till the rooster crows
and now we head for bed
Blowing up the speakers,
speeding down gravel roads,
heading for home now,
hell no we won’t get towed,
tangled up in the darkness,
at as night turns into day,
we don’t need a barn,
for a roll in the hay.
