Upcoming Concerts for Tim McGraw
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Top Songs By Tim McGraw
Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Tim McGraw
Lead Vocals
Alyssa Park
Violin
Andrew Duckles
Viola
Charlie Bisharat
Violin
Dan Dugmore
Steel Guitar
David Levita
Electric Guitar
Erika Duke
Cello
Greg Barnhill
Background Vocals
Ilya Toshinskiy
Acoustic Guitar
Josefina Vergara
Violin
Mario De Leon
Violin
Matthew Funes
Viola
Michael Landau
Electric Guitar
Michele Richards
Violin
Natalie Leggett
Violin
Paul Bushnell
Bass Guitar
Sara Parkins
Violin
Shannon Forrest
Drums
Steve Nathan
Piano
Steve Richard
Cello
Tereza Stanislav
Violin
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Tom Douglas
Songwriter
Troy Jones
Songwriter
David Campbell
String Arranger
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Andrew Schubert
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Brad Townsend
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Byron Gallimore
Producer
Chris Lord-Alge
Mixing Engineer
David Bryant
Assistant Recording Engineer
Erik Lutkins
Additional Engineer
Julian King
Recording Engineer
Keith Armstrong
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Lowell Reynolds
Assistant Recording Engineer
Nik Karpen
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Stephen Allbritten
Assistant Recording Engineer
Steve Churchyard
Strings Engineer
Ted Jensen
Mastering Engineer
Tim McGraw
Producer
Lyrics
Oh, he listens to the countdown, every Sunday morning
From a cold solitary prison cell
And the music from his radio is like freedom down a dirt toad
Makes that eight by ten a brighter hill
Before he started doing all the hard time that he's doing
He was singing in them honky-tonks and dives
He dreamed of being somebody, now he's number 37405
Well she used to come and see him, every other weekend
And bring him all the news from way back home
It's been two birthdays since he's kissed her
Five seconds since he's missed her
Now the perfume on those letters ain't that strong
He's got too much time to think about the night he had too much to drink
And all his buddies, they begged him not to drive
Mr. Life of the Party, he's now number 37405
Old judge on the bench said, "Son, your crime's got consequences."
It's what he told him, fifteen years ago
He took a life and that's a fact, he'd give his own to give it back
Today's the day he finally gets parole
He turns in them prison clothes, and stands there at the forkin' road
And mama prays and waits while he decides
And the angels close their eyes...
Listens to the birds sing on a perfect autumn morning
Just down the road, rings an old church bell
Writer(s): Tom Douglas, Troy Jones
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