I was a red rose, sunny morning, swings lowPut your finger on the middle of nowhere, wheeling a drive thereWhere the stars just beg you to wish on themThe whole team ain't got no quit on themYou're either sitting around waiting on Jesus or the county fairWe were backroom barbed wire fans and roadrunnersDancing to the beat of that small town drummerSinging through the radio staticWe didn't know how good we had itWe were dancing, cool, parking lot, straight lineDrinking about 18, heading where the grass gets greenerThe place you fall out and backYou're either sitting around waiting on Jesus or the county fairWe were in love with that's the kind of place I grew up inYou never think you'll miss the slowdown of itLearning lessons from the hard times of itUntil you get a few miles between the grown up you and all we used to beWe were backroom barbed wire fans and roadrunnersDancing through the beat of that small town drummersmall towndoneso hangingthrough theradio staticwe didn'tknow howgood wehad itwe weretaxicledparking lotstreet lightdreaming about18 headedwhere theglass getsbitterthe place youfall outand backin lovewiththat's thekind ofplace Igrew upinwe werebackroadbarbed wirefence roadrunnersdancing tothe beatof thatsmall towndrummerso hangingthrough theradio staticwe didn'tknow howgood wehad itwe weretaxicledparking lotstreet lightdreaming about18 headedwhere thegrass getsgreenerthe place youfall outand backin lovewiththat's thekind ofplace Igrew upinyeahthat's thekind ofplacethat's thekind ofplacethat Igrew upinI'm cominghomeI'm cominghomeohthat's whereI'm fromnow I might haveleft but I'mcoming backnow babyoh I'mcoming home