Me and daddy ride around all day shooting doves off a line in a Chevrolet.
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Old lab would jump out the back and fetch them up.
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We¡¯d drive for miles and miles and never once hit blacktop or change the dial.
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One little country station was all there was.
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Checking gates, fixing fence and roads that¡¯s how my story goes.
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If you want to know the real me, just turn the page in my dirt road diary.
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It¡¯s right there for you to see, every kiss, every beer, every cotton field memory.
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Tan legs and some Dixie land delight, ridin¡¯ round, windows down on a summer night.
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I was there, that was me. Its right here in my dirt road diary.
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I remember when I turned sixteen; I got a license and some gasoline.
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Ain't a curve or a straight away we didn¡¯t fly down.
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If wasn¡¯t the boys it was me and her by fire in a field or down by the river.
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Every inch of that county was sacred ground.
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Wish I knew where that old truck was.
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If it could talk it could tell on us.
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If you want to know the real me, just turn the page in my dirt road diary.
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It¡¯s right there for you to see, every kiss, every beer, every cotton field memory.
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Tan legs and some Dixie land delight, ridin¡¯ round, windows down on a summer night.
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I was there, that was me. Its right here in my dirt road diary.
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It ain't a book underneath my bed;
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Just a dusty memory lane in my head.
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Tan legs and some Dixie land delight, ridin¡¯ round, windows down on a summer night.
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I was there, that was me. Its right here in my dirt road diaries.
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Just ride around this little town and you¡¯ll see how I wrote my dirt road diary.
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Dirt Road Diary
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| Luke Bryan |
