Good so Bad

Original

Twenty years of routine, boots hittin' every crack, tight lips cut bright, sunglasses shade of black.

Cigar smoke in the air, melodies attack, riders on the range, always ready on the track.

Gritty with the rhymes, playing country with a twist, spinning wheels day and night, never gonna miss.

Club fights and dark nights, no, never wanted this, high speed to the future, riding through the abyss.

Hittin' strings on a porch, moonshine in a sack, bass line thumping heartbeats, heavy on the back.

We're strong on the pull, don't ever slack, turn wagon sad into good so bad.

Good so bad.

Good so bad.

On the road with the boys, singing tales of yore, good flow on the point, melody at its core.

Gunslinging tales, yearning for the more, harmonicas and banjos, legends we adore.

Back to the boots, that's a tilt just right, we're bringing cool old school back to daylight.

Song shooting steady like a wild west fight, giddy up, giddy down, riding through the night.

Hittin' strings on a porch, moonshine in a sack, bass line thumping heartbeats, heavy on the back.

We're strong on the pull, don't ever slack, turn wagon sad into good so bad.

Hittin' strings on a porch, moonshine in a sack, bass line thumping heartbeats, heavy on the back.

We're strong on the pull, don't ever slack, turn wagon sad into good so bad.

Hittin' strings on a porch, moonshine in a sack, bass line thumping heartbeats, heavy on the back.

We're strong on the pull, don't ever slack, turning wagon sad into good so bad. Good so bad.

Good so bad!