The music on my father's stereo
Every Saturday
Was back when steel and fiddle had their time to interplay
It was my first drive in that old car, killed the battery,
Listening till the sun came up on a summer nights dream
Songs for the working class, and those looking for love, they took you to a place deep inside or up above
I don't hear them on my FM radio
I don't know why they all had to go
My father would call it a shame
TheThe country doesn't sound the same
There's a hardhat crew laying tar up by the gate
They don'tThey don't care whose land they carve, as long as their checks aren't late
Tax bond brought the highway and 100 mobile homes
They are clearingThey're clearing space every day for commercial zones
I can hear it out the kitchen window
The farm aint the quiet place I used to know
Everybody's headed west to stake their claim
The country doesn't sound the same
Times are always changing
Are the good Times gone?
No more open sky above me
No more soul left in the song
I know it don't do no good to complain
TheThe country doesn't sound the same
I fear were living in theI fear we're living in the strangest of times
Where no matter where you stand you're always on opposing sides
AsAs the noise runs around the clock and no one can cut through
I don't know when it will end
I don't know what we can do
I lie awake at night and wonder how
I don't know what to think of us now
It doesn't do no good in laying blame
The country doesn't sound the same
The country doesn't sound the same