(Raised on country music) I was raised on Merle, raised on Willie Got my Honky Tonk attitude from Joe Diffie Daddy did too, it's family tradition If someone cranks it up, you can't help but listen My upbringing sounds like George Strait singing And I

Say it loud, say it clear You can listen as well as you hear It's too late when we die To admit we don't see eye to eye I just wish I could have told him in the living years Every generation Blames the one before And all of their frustrations Come

This ship will carry our bodies safe to shore Though the truth may vary Don't listen to a word I say The screams all sound the same Hey! Hey! Hey! 'Cause though the truth may vary I don't like walking around this old and empty house So hold my hand, I'll

And maybe you should learn to love her like, like the way And remember the time When we were in school, listening to grown ups Didn't learn a thing, but then again you know what You know how to sing But you don't know anything other than that So maybe

Since I lose my man When I say my prayers My man's gone now Ain't no use a listenin' For his tired footsteps Climbin' up the stairs Old man sorrow's Come to keep me company Whisperin' beside me

You know you wanna be my baby Now here we go again, here we go again Here we go again, here we go again We should have listened to each other's hearts We can make it happen if you 'bout that action Falling in love in every part Let me tell you little

Lay me back down Listen to the word I remember things not many things In the holes and the warmth that we've warmed up I remember every word and every sound Bop-ba-ba-da Ba-ba-da-da In the bed with the cold-hearted people

Rumor has it she has you Rumor has it you love her too Talk is cheap but the price is high when it's true I overheard a conservation your name was mentioned in But they didn't talk about us, only her again I didn't want to listen but I hung on every word

Now we're listenin' to old Alabama A little dixieland delight and it feels so right Oh, play me some old Alabama She'd rather wear a pair of cut-off jeans Than a fancy evening dress And with her windows rolled down And her hair all blown around She's a

I spend my nights down on the wharf In unlit alleyways By the church downtown Where Sally prays Come down sometime We'll share a rusty can of corn... And listen to the radio I love you, I love you, it says...