Boots On Bass

The dust is settled on this highway shoulder

Another long day fading to the dark

The air is turning just a little colder

As I turn the key to watch the engine start

Leaving all the weight behind the dashboard light

We're chasing down the freedom of the open night

So pour a round of whiskey for the working man

Let the rhythm wash away the strain

This is my cathedral made of wood and tin

Where we all come to forget the rain

Oh, this beat is my saving grace

The gravel roads are calling through the speakers low

A heavy heart is starting to feel light

No matter where the wind is gonna choose to blow

We're keeping time with the southern sky

So pour a round of whiskey for the working man

Let the rhythm

wash away the strain

This is my cathedral made of wood and tin

Where we all come to forget the rain Oh,

this beat is my saving grace

Sometimes you gotta lose yourself to find your feet

Away from all the noise on the street

So pour a round of whiskey for the working man

Let the rhythm wash away the strain

This is my cathedral made of wood and tin

Where we all come to forget the rain

Oh, this beat is my saving grace

Yeah, my saving grace...

Let the music play