A Saturday downpour carved out rivers in the sand
she said it was her first time to see the sea
helping to clime the jetty rocks was the first time I touched her hand
and the rain and the way it felt never let up all week
by Thursday I knew everything about her
And God, the last day I didn’t wanna leave without her
The sidewalks and streets were soaked and the sky was gray
but you should’ve seen her face, shining like that light house
through all the rain and the way she called my name
I’ve lived those seven days a thousand times,
those seven days a thousand times
Jacob was a dirt poor farm boy
Raised at the fork in the road in a clapboard house
And Rachel was a land baron’s daughter
Born with a silver spoon in her mouth
Her daddy said he wouldn’t stand
For Rachel to waste her life with a common man
He tried hard to keep them apart
But you can’t draw lines in a young girl’s heart
So late one night by the harvest moon
Jacon climbed a ladder up to Rachel’s room
He knew his place, it was right beside her
Step by step up to her world
Head over heels for a brown-eyed girl
And gettin’ caught didn’t seem to matter
‘Cause Heaven was waitin’ at the top of Jacob’s ladder
I called my grandfather “Papa.” In ‘93, when I was 3 years old, he traded an old van for a brand new pickup. She was a bright red and could go anywhere, be it up-state or out-of-state. She was a reliable, powerful machine that would come to see so many wonders and journeys. Well after a few years, she got some problems and my grandparents drove a ‘78 Impala for a while.
When I turned 19 and finally got my learner’s permit, I really wanted my own vehicle. Everyone told me that the truck wouldn’t ride again, but it took only a little TLC, and she was good as new. I present to you the truck that I still drive today at 22 years old. It was Papa’s truck, and we rode everywhere together. He taught me how to drive and told me so many stories in that truck. Every time I drive her, I feel him next to me in the shotgun seat. I hear his laugh when I roll the windows down, and I still hear his advice for life echo in my head. The times we had together and the time we spent together mean a lot to me and they always will. He was and is my hero.
R.I.P Papa, I love you so much, and I miss you more than I can bare, but I know I’ll see you again. Thank you for everything you taught me.
Lord knows we’ve had our share of fights
Our sleepless nights, our ups and downs
We’ve had plenty and then-some of baby I’m gones
And turn-arounds
Sometimes I swear it might be easier to throw in the towel
Someday we’re gonna look back and say look at us now
I keep on lovin you
Through the baby don’t leave mes and never will agains and I promise tos
I keep on lovin you
Through I take it backs, the I didn’t mean it like that’s, I’d never hurt yous
I keep on lovin you
Oh, I keep on lovin you
I love you, Jean. And I’ll whether whatever battle I have to, to stay with you.
My blog is about ME.
I don’t conform to “socially acceptable” ways, nor will I label myself as anything. I’m country because I’m not afraid to be who I really am and I don’t need stuff or money to prove it because that ain’t what country is. If you don’t like what I post, unfollow me now because I really just don’t give a damn. I’m very outspoken and I will not withhold anything back because this is my blog and I’ll say whatever the hell I want to. I’m a very nice guy, but do not piss me off or I will be very unpleasant to deal with. Censorship is fucking stupid and I will not censor anything on my blog. If you want “politically correct,” go to the White House cause you ain’t gonna find it here. I don’t deal with people’s bullshit; if you play games with me, I will not give you my time of day. This is me, take me as I am or don’t take me at all.
Hell yeah.
With gentle hands and the heart of a fighter, I’m a survivor.
— Reba McEntire’s song, “Survivor”
The smile on your face
Lets me know that you need me
There’s a truth in your eyes
Sayin you’ll never leave me
A touch of your hand
Says you’ll catch me if ever I fall
Now you say it best
When you say nothin at all
— Keith Whitley, When You Say Nothing At All
the ORIGINAL singer of it
