Clear As Day

It's the Duquoin, Illinois county fair I could still see her standing there like a dream Flatbed stage on a little dirt track She was second row, her hair pulled back We were young and free Oh, she could've been mine But we ran out of summertime Spen

First crush, first kiss, first time I saw the ocean And dug my toes in the sand (Your love is better than that) Baseball and summer nights, casting out when the fish first bite, First time I got a Chevy in my hands (Your love is better than that) I t

I'm just a country boy, I drive a four-by-four It's usually covered in mud, from the axle to the door It's a little banged off, a little too much rust But when you're sittin' beside me in my old truck You make that look good, honey, better than it sh

[ti:Write My Number On Your Hand] [ar:Scotty McCreery] [al:Clear As Day] [by:hjin007] [00:01.00]Scotty McCreery - Write My Number On Your Hand [00:05.00]LRC By hjin007 [00:15.00] [00:24.00]She climbed up an oak tree and double back-flipped [00:28.89]

Runnin' from the rat race Just as fast as I can Take off my tie so I can breathe Me, I'm going where the fresh air's blowin' Take a little walk in the country with me Walk in the country with me Watch the sun sinkin' down on the trees It's gonna do u

Scotty McCreery - The Trouble With Girls - LYRICS The trouble with girls is their a mystery Something about 'em puzzle's me Spend my whole life tryna figure out just what dem' girls are all about The trouble with girls is there so dang pretty Everyth

Preacher gave it to him when he was eight, That Sunday morning he got saved in that little church Gran-daddy totted it to Bible school I bet back then it looked brand new, not a faded word, now the cover's torn and the leather's worn on that Old King

back on the ground - scotty mccreery i dropped by to check on mama for a minute i could hear her hummin' a tune through the screen door in the kitchen she was puttin' the final touches on a homemade pecan pie and just like always i was right on time

Scotty McCreery - Dirty Dishes Mama hollers "Supper time, And don't make me tell you twice Wash your hands and wipe your face. The table's no place for your toys, And try to use your inside voice, Don't dig in 'til we say Grace." So we put down