1: Ghost Hounds, Lainey Wilson, Ghost Hounds & Lainey

this could be the last time we ever talkI'm

goin' off insideOnly hurts when a soul comes aliveYou

sure do like those Christmas cookies, sugarI sure do like

was born in boots on humble groundThese kinda roots,

1: Ian my younger years, I knew nothingI'd be

working like a dog, tryna please 'em allTryna put

I'm the last name you thought you'd ever see

the son of a third-generation farmerI’ve been married ten years

1: Jordan a giver of another chanceKnows every hair

myself I'd never fall for a little charm and

that rooster's crowin', she's kitchen table sittin'Underlining the gospel

ashamed of where I'm from or where I've beenWell,

me a red-eye flight out of HoustonFound me a

can hook a trailer on a two-inch hitchI can

doesn't always make you tallerAnd those pictures on mama's

was right after senior yearJust before the summer disappearedWe

Pull out them 'get me some' jeans out the closetPut on

1: Chris is time to say farewell, now the

1: Ashley it a small batch whiskey with a