Tom: D
D
This happens every time we step on stage,
D A
They look at us like we have lost our minds,
D G
Then we go and break into that San Antonio Rose,
D A D
And they can't believe they're havin a good time,
D
Every time we hit a truck stop on the road,
D A
They say you boys you must be in a band,
D G
What kind of music do you play and we say country,
D A D
And there's that look like they don't understand,
They call us long haired, tattooed, hippie freaks,
G
You know they ain't all wrong,
D
You'd think they never saw a bad outlaw,
E A
Singin a country song,
D
But if they'd close their eyes and open their ears,
G
And let the music speak,
D
They'd hear good old country music,
D A D
Not just long haired, tattooed freaks
D
So it's been some time since I cut this long-assed hair,
D A
And my ragged looks don't fit in with this place,
D G
Tattoo parlors, ain't we all spent time in there,
D A D
We've got the scars that time just can't erase,
D
But does anyone remember Johnny Paycheck,
D A
Or Willie, Waylon, or the late and great Doug Sahm,
D G
Yeah, all them clean cut boys they got in Nashville,
D A D
Don't know a damn thing about where we're comin from.
Repeat Chorus:
I'm still the only hell my mama ever raised
