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Dean Brody - Rural Route No. 3 Lyrics



Dean Brody - Rural Route No. 3 Lyrics




It was one lane in and one lane out
A country road they built around
A general store and last stop for gasoline

A paved carpet where we rode our bikes
How the mail came in and how our town survived
A hundred miles from the city's cold concrete

Yeah,'round here old rural route number three
Is more than just a crossing for tumbleweeds

She's taken sons to foreign shores
Brought some back home to their front porch
She' how we come together when the church bell rings
A quarter inch on a fold out map
Where we live, love, cry and laugh
I hope my kids can grow up just like me
On a country road like rural route number three

My first memory is wrapped around
Mama walkin' me to my first bus route
She thought I didn't notice but saw her cry

A place we parked and fogged windows
A way to college and Christmas back home
The shoulder I broke down on when a good friend died

She's taken sons to foreign shores
Brought some back home to their front porch
She' how we come together when the church bell rings
A quarter inch on a fold out map
Where we live, love, cry and laugh
I hope my kids can grow up just like me
On a country road like rural route number three

The sun is hot, our flag it waves
We've dreamed for years about this day
When we'd take those five yellow ribbons down

Riding the blacktops hot heatwaves
Black boots marchin' through ticker tape
A boy from overseas came back to town
Today old highway three is hallowed ground
[ Correct these Lyrics ]

[ Correct these Lyrics ]

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It was one lane in and one lane out
A country road they built around
A general store and last stop for gasoline

A paved carpet where we rode our bikes
How the mail came in and how our town survived
A hundred miles from the city's cold concrete

Yeah,'round here old rural route number three
Is more than just a crossing for tumbleweeds

She's taken sons to foreign shores
Brought some back home to their front porch
She' how we come together when the church bell rings
A quarter inch on a fold out map
Where we live, love, cry and laugh
I hope my kids can grow up just like me
On a country road like rural route number three

My first memory is wrapped around
Mama walkin' me to my first bus route
She thought I didn't notice but saw her cry

A place we parked and fogged windows
A way to college and Christmas back home
The shoulder I broke down on when a good friend died

She's taken sons to foreign shores
Brought some back home to their front porch
She' how we come together when the church bell rings
A quarter inch on a fold out map
Where we live, love, cry and laugh
I hope my kids can grow up just like me
On a country road like rural route number three

The sun is hot, our flag it waves
We've dreamed for years about this day
When we'd take those five yellow ribbons down

Riding the blacktops hot heatwaves
Black boots marchin' through ticker tape
A boy from overseas came back to town
Today old highway three is hallowed ground
[ Correct these Lyrics ]
Writer: Dean McWhinnie
Copyright: Lyrics © OLE MEDIA MANAGEMENT LP

Back to: Dean Brody



Dean Brody - Rural Route No. 3 Video
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Performed By: Dean Brody
Length: 4:11
Written by: Dean McWhinnie

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