Too many times we stand aside, and let the waters slip away. Til what we put off til tomorrow has now become today.
I've got friends in low places, where the whiskey drowns and the beer chases my blues away.
Bury the hatchet, but leave the handle sticking out.
I'm not sure how we exist, as an artist, without country radio.
Stand straight, walk proud, have a little faith.
And now, I'm glad I didn't know the way it all would end, the way it all would go. Our lives are better left to chance, I could've missed the pain, but I'd have had to miss the Dance.