Lyrics White Dirt - Stockholm Syndrome

You get your hands in it
Plant your roots in it
Dusty headlights dance with your boots in it
DIRT

You write your name on it
Spin your tires on it
Build your cornfield, whiskey
Bonfires on it
DIRT

You bet your life on it

It's that old shade red rust clay you grew up on
That plowed up ground that your dad damned his luck on
That post game party field you circle up on
And when it rains you get stuck on

Drift a cloud back behind county roads that you run up
And mud on her jeans that she peeled off and hung up
Her blue eyed summer time smile looks so good that it hurts
Makes you wanna build a 10 percent down
White picket fence house on this dirt

You've mixed some sweat with it
Taken a shovel to it
You've stuck some crosses and some painted
Goal posts through it
DIRT

You know you came from it
DIRT
And some day you'll return to

This elm shade red rust clay you grew up on
That plowed up ground that your dad damned his luck on
That post game party field you circle up on
And when it rains you get stuck on

Drift a cloud back behind county roads that you run up
And mud on her jeans that she peeled off and hung up
Her blue eyed summer time smile looks so good that it hurts
Makes you wanna build a 10 percent down
White picket fence house on this dirt

You know you came from it
DIRT
And some day you'll return to

This elm shade red rust clay you grew up on
That plowed up ground that your dad damned his luck on
That post game party field you circle up on
And when it rains you get stuck on

Drift a cloud back behind county roads that you run up
And mud on her jeans that she peeled off and hung up
Her blue eyed summer time smile looks so good that it hurts
Makes you wanna build a 10 percent down
White picket fence house on this dirt

Makes you wanna build a 10 percent down
White picket fence house on this dirt

You know you came from it
And some day you'll return to it