Verse 1 Church bells quit their ringin' About a quarter after noon, Pickup trucks come rollin' in Beneath the old June moon. Work boots lined the wooden porch, Coffee brewed all day, If you wanted all the local news, Miller's was the place. Chorus Sunday at Miller's Feed Store, Where everybody knows your name. Talkin' crops and football scores, And prayin' for a little rain. Old men tell the same old stories, Young kids dream of something more. Life moves just a little slower Sunday at Miller's Feed Store. Verse 2 Mrs. Johnson bought her chicken feed, Joe picked up some seed. Someone swore those bass were bitin' Down on Willow Creek. There was laughter by the checkerboard, Good-natured back-and-forth, Nobody was in a hurry, Nobody kept score. Chorus Bridge These days the talk's a little different, More auction signs than bumper crops. Too many family farms are fading, Too many dreams have had to stop. There's one less truck beside the grain bins, One less handshake at the door. You can feel the weight of hard times Sunday at Miller's Feed Store. Final Verse The sign's a little faded now, The porch swings just the same. Sunday still brings folks together, Even if the faces change. As long as someone's pourin' coffee, And somebody sweeps the floor, You'll still find a little hometown Sunday at Miller's Feed Store. Final Chorus Sunday at Miller's Feed Store, Where everybody knows your name. Talkin' crops and football scores, And prayin' for a little rain. The years may roll like old back roads, But some things still endure. You can always find your neighbors Sunday at Miller's Feed Store.
