Standard Tuning No Capo (verse 1) My first rifle was a .243, Papa gave Daddy and Daddy gave to me, and they taught me how to shoot with a steady hand, I guess thats something you don't understand. Now I grew up on a prison farm, sneaking pulls of shine from a mason jar, used to go fishing out pickle creek dam, but I guess thats something you don't understand. Grandmas in the kitchen; Papas drunk past dawn; We sit out on the front porch, Just a pickin on the songs; and there's blood on the table, cause we work for what we have; and I was raised in this land, I guess thats something you don't understand. (verse 2) I still fly that southern flag, whistling Dixieland enough to brag, and I know all the words to simple man, I guess thats something you don't understand. I pledge my allegiance the original way, say Merry Christmas not happy holidays, I cant change my ways I know who I am, I guess thats something you don't understand. (Chorus) (Bridge) They'll grind us up in a big machine; They'll feed us all on the same beliefs, Holy dollar and a credit card; but we got a way of doing things, and no bankers gonna steal from me; they wanna tear it all apart. (Chorus) (verse 1) My first rifle was a .243, Papa gave Daddy and Daddy gave to me.
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