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He woke up
before the sun could rise
With sixty years
of dust behind his eyes
Working dirt
that his grandfather owned
With calloused hands
and a heart of stone
He's a small town Southern man
Just doing the best that he can
With his roots in the clay
and his eyes on the sky He lives his life
and he don't ask why
(no he don't) He raised three kids
in a wooden frame
Never cared
for fortune or for fame
Just a simple bible on the stand
And the heavy boots
of a working man
He's a small town Southern man
Just doing the best that he can
With his roots in the clay
and his eyes on the sky He lives his life
and he don't ask why (yeah)
Roots in the clay...
Just a small town man (hummmmm)