Daily Archives: March 3, 2006

Wide Open Road

For some reason, I’m in a shit-kicking mood today. All my ducks are in a row, and I’m feeling my oats. Could be because it’s a beautiful warm spring day with a slight breeze and plenty of sunshine. Could be because it’s Friday. Could be just because.

Anyway, here’s a song I wrote about being your own man, finding your own road, and not listening to any crap along the way. What’s that Jeff Bates says? If you don’t feel like turning it up, it’s not a real country song.

WIDE OPEN ROAD any direction I choose
Shakin’ off this town like an old pair of shoes
Like my old man told me, you’ve got to use it or lose
And if the man don’t call you brother,
don’t give him your membership dues

WIDE OPEN ROAD and no kind of a plan
Shakin’ off these blues like I don’t give a damn
Just like my wife done told me, you’ve got to get it in gear
And if you’ve got no direction,
better bring it on back here

Two lanes is all I need, the right to cruise or to pass
Don’t need no big city news, don’t bother shakin’ your ass
You can tell my friends I’m trying to lighten my load
They can find me out there somewhere on the WIDE OPEN ROAD.

WIDE OPEN ROAD with nothing blocking my sight
Shakin’ out of my skin, just like I told you I might
Just like some folks try to tell you, they say you’ve got to keep your place
Well, if you feel like you’re under the wheel,
there ain’t no smile on your face

WIDE OPEN ROAD and nothing out there for miles
Shakin’ off my past like I was shredding my file
Just like the old man told me, sometimes you’ve got to move on
And you can give better answers
if they show up and you’re long gone.

Two lanes is all I need, the right to stop if I choose
Don’t try to slow me down with your big city news
You can tell my friends I’m trying to lighten my load
They can find me out there somewhere on the WIDE OPEN ROAD.

Spring 1998

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A Hillbilly Song

To you the distinction might sound a bit silly
But I’m not a redneck, I’m an old hillbilly:
Brought up on the green rolling range of the greater midwest.

On 4H work projects and chores in the morning,
long thunderstorms coming up without a warning;
the FFA and those blue ribbons pinned onto my chest.

Fried chicken and taters, homemade jam and bread;
enough sense to not let it go to my head;
an honest wage for a day’s work – woman, girl, boy or man.

Miles stretched out in corn, soybeans and winter wheat;
long underwear, overalls and bare feet;
for piano and guitar lessons, you pay what you can.

Blue collar hand-me-downs and hands always dirty;
work well past sundown and up at 5:30;
good dogs and good food and good times at the swimming hole.

Guitars tuned right, and strong voices together;
harmony tight, shoes of worn out old leather;
gospel and bluegrass and country and good rock and roll.

To you the distinction might sound a bit silly,
but I’m not a redneck, I’m a damn hillbilly;
not looking to fight, just be happy and do my own thing.

Hills, creekbeds and valleys, fishponds and stone lanes;
your word as your bond and expecting the same;
and sound from the ground at your feet when you start in to sing.

3 MAR 2006

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