Clip vidéo

Apparaît dans

Crédits

INTERPRÉTATION
Jamey Johnson
Jamey Johnson
Guitare acoustique
Wayd Battle
Wayd Battle
Guitare électrique
Kevin "Swine" Grant
Kevin "Swine" Grant
Basse
Cowboy Eddie Long
Cowboy Eddie Long
Steel guitar
Dave Macafee
Dave Macafee
Batterie
Scott Welch
Scott Welch
Guitare électrique
Jim Brown
Jim Brown
Piano
COMPOSITION ET PAROLES
Jamey Johnson
Jamey Johnson
Paroles/Composition
James T. Slater
James T. Slater
Paroles/Composition
PRODUCTION ET INGÉNIERIE
T.W. Cargile
T.W. Cargile
Ingénierie de mixage
Beau Boggs
Beau Boggs
Assistance d’ingénierie de prise de son
J.P. Barker
J.P. Barker
Assistance d’ingénierie de prise de son
Randy Leroy
Randy Leroy
Ingénierie de mastérisation
The Kent Hardly Playboys
The Kent Hardly Playboys
Production

Paroles

I was just a normal guy Life was just a nine to five With bills and pressure piled-up to the sky She never asked, she knew I'd bewen Hangin' with my wilder friends Lookin' for some other way to fly Three days straight was no big feat To get by on no food or sleep And crazy was becoming my new normal I'd pass out on the bedroom floor Sleep right through the calm before the storm My life was just an old routine Every day the same damn thing I couldn't even tell I was alive I tell you, the high cost of livin' Ain't nothing like the cost of livin' high That southern Baptist parking lot Was where I'd go to smoke my pot And sit there in my pickup truck and pray And starin' at that giant cross Just reminded me that I was lost And it just never seemed to point the way As soon as Jesus turned his back I'd found my way across the track Lookin' just to score another deal With my back against that damn eight ball I didn't have to think or talk or feel My life was just an old routine Every day the same damn thing I couldn't even tell I was alive I tell you, the high cost of livin' Ain't nothing like the cost of livin' high My whole life went through my head Layin' in that motel bed Watchin' as the cops kicked in the door I had a job and a piece of land My sweet wife was my best friend But I traded that for cocaine and a whore With my new found sobriety I've got the time to sit and think Of all the things I had and threw away This prison is much colder Than that one that I was locked-up in just yesterday My life is just an old routine Every day the same damn thing Hell, I can't even tell if I'm alive I tell you, the high cost of livin' Ain't nothing like the cost of livin' high I tell you, the high cost of livin' Ain't nothing like the cost of livin' high Just leave that stuff alone
Writer(s): James Thomas Slater, Jamey Johnson Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
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