Dreams can come true with God's great angels like you.

It's midnight Cinderella, but don't worry none. Cause I'm Peter the Pumpkin Eater and the party's just begun.

Bury the hatchet, but leave the handle sticking out.

The blues will be blue, and the jealousies green, but when love picks its color it demands to be seen.

I'm not sure how we exist, as an artist, without country radio.

How you ever gonna know if you're the best? How you ever gonna know what you believe in, if you don't put it to the test?

It ain't what you're driving or the clothes that you wear, material possessions won't matter up there. And someday in heaven, when the angels all sing, well these rags that I'm wearin' will be fit for a king.