Dying Breed

Never been much of a go out party crowd drinker
 more of a sit alone on a creek bank sunset thinker
 Little more lovin than leavin
 Little more find the real thing it just ain't singing
 I'm a little more lyric than I am rhythm
 Little more tree stand prayer than back pew pretending
 Little less grudge and a lot more forgiving
 Little less talk and a lot more listen
 Maybe I'm just old fashioned
 Maybe I'm cut from a different cloth
 Maybe I'm just an old has been
 who got it all wrong
 Maybe the whole damn worlds just a waiting
 For me and my kind to kill off and go six feet deep
 And once and for all, finally be short of this dying breed.
 Now I ain't much of a sit around hand out taker
 More of a bust my ass for a ring and a dream
 on a couple of acres.
 With a little more dirt than pavement
 holding her hand growing old on the front porch
 swinging.
 I don't think there's a damn thing wrong with that.
 Maybe I'm just old fashioned
 Maybe I'm cut from a different cloth
 Maybe I'm just an old has been
 who got it all wrong
 Maybe the whole damn worlds just a waiting
 For me and my kind to kill off and go six feet deep
 And once and for all, finally be short of this dying breed.
 Maybe I'm just old fashioned
 Maybe I'm cut from a different cloth
 Maybe I'm just an old has been
 who got it all wrong
 Maybe the whole damn worlds just a waiting
 For me and my kind to kill off and go six feet deep
 And once and for all, finally be short of this dying breed.
 Short of this dying breed.
 I'm a little more lyric than I am rhythm.
 Little more tree stand prayer than back pew pretending...