There's bunk beds and matching sheets, share in the bathroom sink.
Fist fighting over window seats all the way to KOA.
There's more cousins than we had friends, a piggyback pyramid to fit us all in.
Squinting through a Polaroid net on Thanksgiving Day.
We learned how to ration apple pie.
And how to dirty dance when Aunt Tina had too much wine.
It's all husbands and ex-wives and boyfriends and pink lines and the Word of God.
According to who's preaching in the living room.
It's secrets and subverts looking more like your mother.
All in a little house in a little town that ain't nothing small about a big family.
Just hurry up and wait your turn and eat it all even if it's burned in.
Don't take too long to learn that the world don't revolve around you.
We're a picture frame patchwork. Roots tangled in the same dirt.
Little baggage, little hard work. It's all worth its weight.
And husbands and ex-wives and boyfriends and pink lines.
It's all husbands and ex-wives and pink lines and the Word of God.
According to who's preaching in the living room.
It's secrets and subverts looking more like your mother.
All in a little house in a little town that ain't nothing small about a big family.
Ooh, big family.
With thick skin and stubborn till the day we're six feet under.
It's the Word of God according to who's preaching in the living room.
It's secrets and subverts looking more like your mother.
All in a little house in a little town that ain't nothing small about a big family.
All in a little house in a little town that ain't nothing small about a big family.
Ooh, big family. Yeah.
Big family.
Ooh, big family.