| E | |
| Down where | I born it was heaven on earth. |
| A | |
| The | Flint River washes that red Georgia dirt. |
| E | B | |
| The sun sets slow and the stars shine | bright. |
| E | |
| We raised | cotton, corn, a little cane, and kids. |
| A | |
| You either | lived on a farm or wish you did. |
| E | B | |
| Jesus always walked close by our | side. |
| F#m | B | E | A | E | A | |
| Where I grew | up, | we rode in t | rucks. |
| Verse 2 |
| E | |
| There's | a lot about life you can learn on a bus, |
| A | |
| How to | lie, how to fight, how to kiss, how to cuss. |
| E | B | |
| The | closer we sat to the back, the smarter we | got. |
| E | |
| We were | poor, we were ugly, we were all best friends. |
| A | |
| White-eyed, baptized, and still wantin' to sin. |
| E | B | |
| Thank God we get more than just one | shot. |
| F#m | B | E | |
| Where I grew | up, | we rode in t | rucks. |
| Chorus |
| B | A | E | |
| That's | us, haulin' | hay in the field with the radio | on. |
| B | A | F#m | |
| That's | us, headin' | straight into town when the | work is done. |
| B | A | E | E/G# | A | |
| In my | mind, I can s | till see us now, ri | din' down | Buck Island Roa | d. |
| A | F#m | B | |
| It wasn't that long | ago. |
| Verse 3 |
| E | |
| We thought tobacco and beer in a can |
| A | |
| Was all it would take to be like our old man. |
| E | B | |
| But | I saw how it made my momma | cry. |
| E | |
| It was | huntin' and fishin' and football games. |
| A | F#m | |
| Then it was girls, and everything | changed, |
| B | |
| In our l | ives. |
| F#m | B | E | |
| Fallin' in and out of | love, | we rode in t | rucks. |
| Chorus 2 |
| B | A | E | |
| That's | us with our | tailgates down in the p | arking lot. |
| B | A | F#m | |
| That's | us with | mud on our tires when | it rained a lot. |
| B | A | E | E/G# | A | |
| In my | mind, I can | still see us now, | ridin' down | Buck Island Roa | d. |
| F#m | B | A | B | |
| It wasn't that long | ago, it's apart of m | y soul. Yeah. |
| Outro |
| E | |
| Down where | I was born, it was heaven on earth. |
| A | |
| The | Flint River washes that red Georgia dirt. |
| E | B | |
| The sun sets slow and the stars shine | bright. |
| F#m | B | E | |
| Where I grew | up, | we rode in truck | s. |