Song parody of
That's The Kinda Place
by Ashland Craft
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Out where the red rust grows
Sunday mornin' swings low
Put your finger on the middle of nowhere
We lived right there
Where the stars just beg you to wish on 'em
The home team ain't got no quit on 'em
You're either sittin' 'round, waitin' on
Jesus or the county fair
We were backroad, barbed wire fence, row runners
Dancin' to the beat of that small town drummer
Singin' through the radio static
We didn't know how good we had it
We were Texaco parkin' lot, streetlight dreamin'
'Bout eighteen, headin' where the grass gets greener
The place you fall out and back in love with
That's the kinda place I grew up in
You never think you'll miss the slow down of it
Learnin' lessons from the hard times of it
Until you get a few miles between the grown up you
And all the used to be's
We were backroad, barbed wire fence, row runners
Dancin' to the beat of that small town drummer
Singin' through the radio static
We didn't know how good we had it
We were Texaco parkin' lot, streetlight dreamin'
'Bout eighteen, headin' where the grass gets greener
The place you fall out and back in love with
That's the kinda place I grew up in
Yeah, we were backroad, barbed wire fence, row runners
Dancin' to the beat of that small town drummer
Singin' through the radio static
We didn't know how good we had it
We were Texaco parkin' lot, streetlight dreamin'
'Bout eighteen, headin' where the grass gets greener
The place you fall out and back in love with
That's the kinda place I grew up in
Yeah, that's the kinda place, that's the kinda place
That I grew up in
(Whoa, that's where I'm from)
Well now, that's the kinda place
(Whoa, I'm comin' home)
That I grew up in
(Whoa, that's where I'm from)
I'm comin' home, I'm comin' home
(Whoa, I'm comin' home)
(Whoa, that's where I'm from)
I mighta left, but I'm comin' back now, baby
(Whoa, I'm comin' home)
Out where the red rust grows
Sunday mornin' swings low
Put your finger on the middle of nowhere
We lived right there
Where the stars just beg you to wish on 'em
The home team ain't got no quit on 'em
You're either sittin' 'round, waitin' on
Jesus or the county fair
We were backroad, barbed wire fence, row runners
Dancin' to the beat of that small town drummer
Singin' through the radio static
We didn't know how good we had it
We were Texaco parkin' lot, streetlight dreamin'
'Bout eighteen, headin' where the grass gets greener
The place you fall out and back in love with
That's the kinda place I grew up in
You never think you'll miss the slow down of it
Learnin' lessons from the hard times of it
Until you get a few miles between the grown up you
And all the used to be's
We were backroad, barbed wire fence, row runners
Dancin' to the beat of that small town drummer
Singin' through the radio static
We didn't know how good we had it
We were Texaco parkin' lot, streetlight dreamin'
'Bout eighteen, headin' where the grass gets greener
The place you fall out and back in love with
That's the kinda place I grew up in
Yeah, we were backroad, barbed wire fence, row runners
Dancin' to the beat of that small town drummer
Singin' through the radio static
We didn't know how good we had it
We were Texaco parkin' lot, streetlight dreamin'
'Bout eighteen, headin' where the grass gets greener
The place you fall out and back in love with
That's the kinda place I grew up in
Yeah, that's the kinda place, that's the kinda place
That I grew up in
(Whoa, that's where I'm from)
Well now, that's the kinda place
(Whoa, I'm comin' home)
That I grew up in
(Whoa, that's where I'm from)
I'm comin' home, I'm comin' home
(Whoa, I'm comin' home)
(Whoa, that's where I'm from)
I mighta left, but I'm comin' back now, baby
(Whoa, I'm comin' home)
