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Do you hear that lonesome whistle

Lord it's fading like an old Hank Williams songno speeding

This thing called country Lord I'm trying to listen but I'm running through the radio and ain't none on

And I feel alone

I ain't too sure where we're going

We can't seem to remember just where we've been

My country roots lord they aint showin

Ain't nobody blowin like Big John did on Seminole wind

I want to hear it again and again and again and again I want to run I want to run on down the highway to me and this guitar is a bag of bones

A Gulf Coast cowboy doing it my way guitar picking apostille preaching the gospel of a country song

Guitar picking apostille preaching the gospel of a country song

Now gone are the days of all the real legends

Gone are the songs and with that goes the proof

Gone are the sounds of the uncaged spirit

Gone is the freedom of playing what's your feeling and gone is the truth

So in the honors of the heroes of my youth

I'm going to run I'm going to run on down the highway

To me and this guitar is a bag of bones

A Gulf Coast cowboy doing it my way

Guitar picking apostle preaching the gospel of a country song

Guitar pickin apostle Lord I'm preaching the gospel of a country song

Guitar pickin apostle preaching the gospel