God is in the garden, devil's in the dirt
Eve is picking apples, Adam's blaming her
Daddy was a guitar, mama was a gun
The king of country music, the daughter, not the son
The daughter, not the son, the daughter, not the son
Could the king of country music be the daughter, not the son?
Got me some cows and I got me some chickens
Got me a dog and a guitar for picking fights
With folks who try to cut the string on my kite
That's right
No Southern drawl and no grits from grandma
Eight thousand miles more south of Alabama
You can bet, most famous girl ain't no one heard of yet
Heh, but I'm all set
God is in the garden, devil's in the dirt
Eve is picking apples, Adam's blaming her
Daddy was a guitar, mama was a gun
The king of country music, the daughter, not the son
The daughter, not the son, the daughter, not the son
Could the king of country music be the daughter, not the son?
Miss Kitty Wells was the first show I opened
Ten years old singing "Will the Circle Be Unbroken" next to her
Sometimes that country music pedigree is earned
You watch and learn
Nashville trailer park, I was seventeen
Family band, Opryland, playing sets between writing songs
Slipping demo tapes in laundry bags of stars
You don't get far
God is in the garden, devil's in the dirt
Eve is picking apples, Adam's blaming her
Daddy was a guitar, mama was a gun
The king of country music, the daughter, not the son
The daughter, not the son, the daughter, not the son
Could the king of country music be the daughter, not the son?
Five gold trophies, it's my inauguration
Ain't gonna hear me on no radio station, that's okay
I tend to get above my station anyway
Haha
God is in the garden, devil's in the dirt
Eve is picking apples, Adam's blaming her
Daddy was a guitar, mama was a gun
The king of country music, the daughter, not the son
The daughter, not the son, the daughter, not the son
Could the king of country music be the daughter, not the son?