Curly Hair, Four Wheels

Up before the morning

mist has cleared the creek

Grease on his knuckles,

dirt upon his cheek

That tangle of brown curls sticking through his cap

Plotting out the pine trails on an old worn map

(yeah, that's him) Key turns in the four-wheeler,

engine starts to roar

He don't wait for fences,

he just aims for something more

That's Hunter kicking up the river gravel high

Tearing through the timber underneath an open sky

Wild curls blowing in the red dust wind

Laughing in the creek bed,

doing it again

Old four-wheeler flying round the bend (ride on,

brother)

He taught me how to shift

when the mud got deep

Pulled me out of ditches

when the hill was steep

Helmet hanging on the handlebar at noon

Whistling along to some old country tune

He just grins that grin with his hair all wild and free

Says 'hop on the back if you want to run with me'

(here we go)

That's Hunter kicking up the river gravel high

Tearing through the timber underneath an open sky

Wild curls blowing in the red dust wind

Laughing in the creek bed,

doing it again

Old four-wheeler flying round the bend

(round the bend)

Sun starts setting on the ridge line red and slow

Tracks along the fence line

everywhere we go

Best big brother that a kid

could ever know

Kicking up the gravel,

yeah

Curly hair in the wind

Keep riding, Hunter (keep riding

on)