Out where the red rust grows
Sunday mornin' swings low
Put your finger on the middle of nowhere
We lived right there
Where the stars just beg you to wish on 'em
The home team ain't got no quit on 'em
You're either sittin' 'round
Waitin' on Jesus or the county fair
We were backroad, barbed wire fence, row runners
Dancin' to the beat of that small town drummer
Singin' through the radio static
We didn't know how good we had it
We were Texaco parkin' lot, streetlight dreamin'
'Bout eighteen, headin' where the grass gets greener
The place you fall out and back in love with
That's the kinda place I grew up in
You never think you'll miss the slow-down of it
Learnin' lessons from the hard times of it
Until you get a few miles between the grown-up you
And all the used-to-be's
We were backroad, barbed wire fence, row runners
Dancin' to the beat of that small town drummer
Singin' through the radio static
We didn't know how good we had it
We were Texaco parkin' lot, streetlight dreamin'
'Bout eighteen, headin' where the grass gets greener
The place you fall out and back in love with
That's the kinda place I grew up in
Yeah, we were backroad, barbed wire fence, row runners
Dancin' to the beat of that small town drummer
Singin' through the radio static
We didn't know how good we had it
We were Texaco parkin' lot, streetlight dreamin'
'Bout eighteen, headin' where the grass gets greener
The place you fall out and back in love with
That's the kinda place I grew up in
Yeah, that's the kinda place
That's the kinda place that I grew up in
(Whoa, that's where I'm from)
Well now, that's the kinda place
(Whoa, I'm comin' home)
That I grew up in
(Whoa, that's where I'm from)
I'm comin' home, I'm comin' home
(Whoa, I'm comin' home)
(Whoa, that's where I'm from)
I mighta left, but I'm comin' back now, baby
(Whoa, I'm comin' home)
