Losing Time

I’ve worked to hard to make a fool of myself. Rose from the bottom,
bit it all farewell. Couple wrong turns, and we’re back at square one.
We ain’t found out why we’re living till we finally do some. I can hold my
head high. No more tail lights. I’m finally back home in a place that I can
call mine. Living on the interstate. Passing all them cattle fields.
Losing count of mile markers. Tryna catch the dinner bell
Well these boots were made for walkin
I’m running up to pass
You motormouth’s keep talkin
You’re running out of gas
I’ma — 100 proof and a flame to you
Send my condolences, and pray for you
I’m an, outlaw
And I’m, against the wall
To make some quick luck
For a, little break
And I’m, only but a phone call away
I’m nothin but a phone call away
I’ve been there, I’ve done that. I’ve seen some shit that could make a grown
man break. I’ve drowned in the bottom of a whiskey bottle, gone in the night
when I go full throttle. Tell me all of my wildest dreams, I’ve seen em all and
I can’t unsee. Tryna make it to your radio, with a song that’ll make you sit
and think. I write to make a damn right to say I am right in front of my flight
to take it in. Kicked the Vicodin, lived the life again. Climbing on up like
this ol violin. I play for my heart and soul. Worth more than the bars of gold.
We say what the beat play in elite ways, where the waters cold.
The boys and I are like, poison ivy like, we ain’t tryna be fucked with.
We got more time on this old road than this old road had been trucked with.
So we take the way that we were meant to take, or we can go the story untold.
My mind is on this rebel vibe, and I’m tryna break the mold. It’s game time so
let’s aim high, and let’s watch the future unfold. Cuz I’m sick and tired of
seeing it’s required to be this admired to be bold. So fuck what anyone say.
Your grind ain’t anyone’s thing. You stop for nothin, keep poppin up and,
keep washing up with that gold
Well these boots were made for walkin
I’m running up to pass
You motormouth’s keep talkin
You’re running out of gas
I’ma — 100 proof and a flame to you
Send my condolences, and pray for you
I’m an, outlaw
And I’m, against the wall
To make some quick luck
For a, little break
And I’m, only but a phone call away
I’m nothin but a phone call away