Lyrics

Mac Leaphart: acoustic guitar, vocals
Fats Kaplin: pedal steel
Matt Menefee: banjo
Brad Jones: bass
Logan Todd: drums

I drank coffee and he smoked, tossing words around
Settled on a song
Then we laid it down
It’ll probably never make it off my phone
‘Cause it’s tough to sing a song I can’t stand behind
Searching for the heart, trying to make it mine
I’m lost somewhere beyond the lines I’ve drawn

It seemed so easy, couldn’t be that hard
Writing one of those songs coming from those cars
From Wilmington to Barstow
Everybody was listening
So, I packed up a bag & kissed Mama goodbye
I was gonna die guessing if I never tried
But, every song I get done, they say,
“Son, you better try again”

I’m hanging on, trying to get paid
Lord, Easy Street seems far away
If I could, I’d bum a ride, but I can’t
I’m out on a limb, trying to get in
On this music city joke
& laugh all the way to the bank

Kris & Willie, Roger Miller, & John Prine
Came roaring passed the Davidson county line
They all left their mark on this here town
Big shoes we’re trying to fill
A beaten path up a worn out hill
& nobody hands the map back down

I still hanging on, trying to get paid
Lord, Easy Street seems far away
Not even close enough to sneak a peek
I’m out on a limb, trying to get in
On this music city joke
Feels like the last laugh is on me