Corey Smith

The Good Life Lyrics

The Good Life video

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Composers:
  • Jack Reardon
  • Jean Broussolle
  • Alexandre Sacha Distel
Genres:
  • Country
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Corey Smith - The Good Life lyrics

The Good Life

I'm sittin alone in my three-bedroom home
A mile east of where I was raised
Starin out the window at my dog in the backyard
In the pine straw covered with clay
Damn he's a mess but we love him to death
I guess he fits in this family well
Yea we're a bloodline of shepherds used to roamin the pastures
Tryin to cope with this suburban hell

It sure ain't the good life we're livin, but I reckon we're happy enough
We've done well with the hand we were given, with a little hope and a whole lotta love

Dad just finished buildin it must have cost him a killin
That house out on Rambler's Inn
He sent my brother off to college, walkin through the arches
Man we're all sure proud of him
But he never tried to spoil us, kept our hands in the saw dust
Yea we chipped in whenever we could
And we shared in the sweat and the blood and the tears
I guess he knew it would do us some good

It sure ain't the good life we're livin, but I reckon we're happy enough Corey Smith - The Good Life - http://motolyrics.com/corey-smith/the-good-life-lyrics.html
We've done well with the hands we were given, with a little hope and a whole lotta love
No we don't have our fists full of dollars and we're no southern aristocrats
No we ain't got a lot but we've earned what we got
Lyrics
And we couldn't do it much better than that

My wife quite her job, now she's workin full time
Takin care of the baby and me
And I'm playin in the bars tryin to pay off the debts
Lord this half acre didn't come cheap
I come draggin in three and four in the mornin
Smell like tobacco and rum
Still she wakes up to greet me cause she loves me completely
Says she's proud of the star I've become

It sure is a good life we're livin, yea I reckon we're happy enough
We've done well with the hand we were given, with a little hope and a whole lotta love
No we don't have our fists full of dollars and we're no southern aristocrats
No we ain't got a lot but we've earned what we got
And we couldn't do it much better than that

I hope ole St. Peter will have me when they throw my coffin in the back
When that hearse rolls away I hope all ya'll will say
He couldn't do it much better than that

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