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Intro: (As played at Billy Bob's 4-30-99) Mamma raised a Christian boy Children of the Son Daddy was A son of A B***H And I'm a hard hittin' son of a gun e-----------------------------------| B-----------------------------------| G-----------------------------------| D-------0-------0-------0-------0---| A---0h3-----0h3-----0h3-----0h3-----| E-----------------------------------| F--C--D F--C--D F--C--D F--C--D e-----------| B-----------| G-----------| D-------0---| A---0h3-----| E-----------|
What the hFell am I dCoing down in KansaDs City, FI know damn weCll it ain't wheDre I belong, Fthink I'll quitC my job come 5 oD'clock, fiCnd my loneGly way backD home, FMy baby said justC what are you trying toD prove here, Fdo you really want to lCeave me hereD alone, I said I'mF staring at thCis ocean fulDl of Yankees, Cand I'd rather be inG Texas onD my own.
Chorus
So we were soAuthbouGnd 35, we weDre headed down the road, hit the boArder by theG morninFg, let TexCas fillD my soul, yeah let TFexasC fill mDy soul.
The tears start to flow about the time that I was leaving, she said I guess you better take me along, God might have made me born a Yankee, but it's time that I made Texas my home, So we loaded her stuff into my pickup, said good-bye to all my friends, called my brother down in Austin, said I'm headed home again. Chorus
AShe had her feet up on the dashboard, Ashe was holding my hand and wearing only a smile, Ashe said it's gonna be hard to start all over, but the fCeeling I have wilGl make it all worDth while.
Chorus