Blame Me
She's pony-tailed an' she's halter topped:
Her bumper-sticker says: "I hate hip-hop."
With a southern drawl, she says: "Howdy, y'all,"
And her hands ain't afraid of dirt.
He's proud of his old truck:
He spray painted over dents and rust.
The motor smokes, it's got four bald tires,
But the radio works.
Raised on the Good Book and our country songs,
Ridin' down back roads an' singin' along:
So blame me for the way they are,
Their love of the fiddle and the steel guitar.
Blame me for their cowboy hats,
Roper boots, Wrangler jeans, and rifle racks.
If you wanna point a finger at somebody,
For the way they believe,
Blame me.
They were kids when Hag and me came to town:
All eyes and ears: look at 'em now.
Center stage on the Grand Ole Opry,
On a Saturday night.
Sing of fishin' and the Lord above,
Fallin' in and out of love.
From Aunt Bea to Uncle Sam,
And that American Pie.
From big cities to the little towns
Were hard-core country inside and out.
So blame me for the way they are,
Their love of the fiddle and the steel guitar.
Blame me for their cowboy hats,
Roper boots, Wrangler jeans, and rifle racks.
If you wanna point a finger at somebody,
For the way they believe,
Blame me.
Blame me for the way they are,
Their love of the fiddle and the steel guitar.
Blame me for their cowboy hats,
Roper boots, Wrangler jeans, and rifle racks.
If you wanna point a finger at somebody,
For the way they believe,
Blame me.
Blame me.
Blame me, yeah.
Похожие новости.
Monster
Don't call me GaGa I've never seen one like that before Don't look at me like that You amaze me He ate my heart He a-a-ate my heart (You little monster) He ate my heart He a-a-ate my
Та Не Гірш Нікого
Буду, буду, буду, буду битися – Нема чого на мене так дивитися! Все життя без тата, все життя без мами, Дорогу пробиваю сам – кулаками! Весь світ проти мене, я весь проти світу. Я дам
АС/ДС (Ака Дика)
Дід Марко допива вино, баба Маргарита лупає кота. Лише я на концерт готуюся. Рваний капелюх, клепаний кожух, колоші на шіпах, майка у значках, Будемо ми дуріти, на головах ходити! Приспів: Гей! Голя! До нас приїде
Свеча На Ветру
Муз: Д.Ковков Сл. О.Елькина Ты ветер, ты где-то, В облаках без меня летаешь. Не вспомнишь, не вздрогнешь, Обо мне не мечтаешь... Почему устроен мир не так, Для тебя моя любовь пустяк. От любви свечой сгораю, Видишь, я сгораю
The Edge Of America
Walk the edge of America A concrete beach to scrape my hand Inside the subway stinking fear and shame Becomes the violent breath Vigilantes out on dawn patrol But now there's nothing left to hide I'm