Tailgates down and the radios loud, Dust clouds rise from a rowdy crowd, Bare feet dancin’ on the truck bed steel, Laughin’ ‘bout nothin’, chasin’ what’s real. Fireflies flicker, moon starts to climb, Hearts beat fast and we’re killin’ time. Out in the Flatwoods, 'round the fire, Old guitars and worn-out tires, Whiskey talk and tales grow tall, Under them pines where the night birds call. Jenny’s got her daddy’s Chevy parked, Blue eyes glowin’ in the dark, Cold can sweatin’ in a calloused hand, Future’s waitin’, but tonight’s the plan. Ain’t no worries, ain’t no town, Just the woods, the stars, and the world shut down. Out in the Flatwoods, 'round the fire, Old guitars and worn-out tires, Whiskey talk and tales grow tall, Under them pines where the night birds call. We were young, wild, and halfway grown, Tryin’ to find a place we’d call our own, The night was ours, the world was wide, And nothin’ could touch that summertime. Out in the Flatwoods, 'round the fire, Old guitars and worn-out tires, Whiskey talk and tales grow tall, Under them pines where the night birds call. Now the years roll by, but I still hear, That Flatwoods song ringin’ clear, If you listen close when the night winds sigh, You’ll hear our laughter driftin’ by. Out in the Flatwoods, 'round the fire, Old guitars and worn-out tires, Whiskey talk and tales grow tall, Under them pines where the night birds call. Out in the Flatwoods
