When I was 10 years old, my dad introduced me to the world of country music. He said, "You probably won't listen to this your whole life, you'll outgrow it, you'll find something new"
So, I made a bet with him, For $10 my 10-year-old brain would endure listening to songs about trains, rain and mamma for the rest of my life.
As it turns out, I could have done it for free.
When I can't handle my own story, I go to the songs that tell a different one. Songs that fill up your senses,
Songs that make you Witness the Wild Montana Skies,
Make you see the eagles soaring,
Songs that make you experience the Rocky Mountain High,
Make you feel the Sunshine on your shoulders...
When I can't handle my own sorrows,
I'm stuck in Folsom Prison; In a Ring of Fire.
But I don't ever bring my guns to town. My father harped on about that one.
Even when I can handle my story, my sorrows, my joys, I get in the car, just like when I was a kid. I think of my dad, Give a little smile, And turn up the dial.