My Kind Of Country Video (MV)

My Lyrics are what you get when you cross baroque with verbose
My melodies are in minor keys, spinning yarns of old morose
Singing songs about relationships instead of songs about young love
And gambling with the devil, when you know you've signed in blood
Writing on the rough roads of problematic drinking
Not the good times that sell the beer, coolers and whiskey
Singing about rusted out cab corners, and having to whack the starter
That ain't gonna sell you a Ford, Dodge or a Chevy
Don't get me wrong, I've known it all along
The radios just don't play my kind of country songs
Don't get me wrong, I've known it all along
The radios just don't play my kind of country
Ain't cutout for Nashville, I wouldn't fit in properly at the opry
But I was made for the golden age of three-chord, train-rhythm country
When the lyrics told you a story about heartache, hard-times and pain
Meant to help you out with your own hurt, just like the cleansing of a rain
Writing on the rough roads of problematic drinking
Not the good times that sell the beer, coolers and whiskey
Singing about rusted out cab corners, and having to whack the starter
That ain't gonna sell you a Ford, Dodge or a Chevy
Don't get me wrong, I've known it all along
The radios just don't play my kind of country songs
Don't get me wrong, I've known it all along
The radios just don't play my kind of country songs
Don't get me wrong, I've known it all along
The radios just don't play my kind of country
Don't get me wrong, I've known it all along
The radios just don't play my kind of country