Well, he still defies definition
But then, I have this premonition
That he likes it that way
Born ‘n’ raised out in the country
Lived and worked in the s***ty city
And some say he lost his way
You might be a slave, but he works harder
You could be a genius; we say he’s smarter
Living to the tune of a thumping techno beat
No question; he’ll give his all for a friend
Generosity and loyalty without end
Look! There he is, walking on the street
You might find him watching the history channel
With a beer in one hand
And two empty bottles on the table
Or at a pay phone, arguing about a credit card
(“You have to understand, Mr. Hurst, we only
issued you this card so we could
f**k up your life. . .”)
He’s the good ole country boy, only with math skills,
compact discs and digital cable
He’s the sophisticated city man, only with a quick smile,
a loyal heart and a forgiving attitude
He can change the subject before you hear the first part
The heart of a little boy wrapped in an old man’s scars.