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Тексты песен на английском, аккорды, табулатуры, гитара, Texts of songs, the song text, chords, notes
Тексты песен на английском, аккорды, табулатуры, гитара, Texts of songs, the song text, chords, notes » C » Corey Smith
The Good Life - текст песни



The Good Life


I'm sittin alone in my three-bedroom home


A mile east of where I was raised


Starin out the window at my dog in the backyard


In the pine straw covered with clay


Damn he's a mess but we love him to death


I guess he fits in this family well


Yea we're a bloodline of shepherds used to roamin the pastures


Tryin to cope with this suburban hell





It sure ain't the good life we're livin, but I reckon we're happy enough


We've done well with the hand we were given, with a little hope and a whole lotta love





Dad just finished buildin it must have cost him a killin


That house out on Rambler's Inn


He sent my brother off to college, walkin through the arches


Man we're all sure proud of him


But he never tried to spoil us, kept our hands in the saw dust


Yea we chipped in whenever we could


And we shared in the sweat and the blood and the tears


I guess he knew it would do us some good





It sure ain't the good life we're livin, but I reckon we're happy enough


We've done well with the hands we were given, with a little hope and a whole lotta love


No we don't have our fists full of dollars and we're no southern aristocrats


No we ain't got a lot but we've earned what we got


And we couldn't do it much better than that





My wife quite her job, now she's workin full time


Takin care of the baby and me


And I'm playin in the bars tryin to pay off the debts


Lord this half acre didn't come cheap


I come draggin in three and four in the mornin


Smell like tobacco and rum


Still she wakes up to greet me cause she loves me completely


Says she's proud of the star I've become





It sure is a good life we're livin, yea I reckon we're happy enough


We've done well with the hand we were given, with a little hope and a whole lotta love


No we don't have our fists full of dollars and we're no southern aristocrats


No we ain't got a lot but we've earned what we got


And we couldn't do it much better than that





I hope ole St. Peter will have me when they throw my coffin in the back


When that hearse rolls away I hope all ya'll will say


He couldn't do it much better than that



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