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...