Gone Country - Alan Jackson

She’s been playing in a room on a strip

For ten years in Vegas

Every night she looks in the mirror

But she only ages

She’s been reading about Nashville and all

The records that everybody’s buying

Says, «I'm a simple girl myself, grew up on Long Island»

So she packs her bags to try her hand

Says, «This might be my last chance»

She’s gone country, look at them boots

She’s gone country, back to her roots

She’s gone country, a new kind of suit

She’s gone country, here she comes

Well, the folk scene is dead

But he’s holding out in the village

He’s been writing songs speaking out

Against wealth and privilege

He says, «I don’t believe in money

But a man could make him a killin'

'Cause some of that stuff don’t sound

Much different than Dylan

I hear down there it’s changed you see

They’re not as backwards as they used to be»

He’s gone country, look at them boots

He’s gone country, back to his roots

He’s gone country, a new kind of suit

He’s gone country, here he comes

He commutes to L.A.

But he’s got a house in the valley

But the bills are piling up And the pop scene just ain’t on the rally

He says, «Honey, I’m a serious composer'

Schooled in voice and composition

But with the crime and the smog these days

This ain’t no place for children

Lord, it sounds so easy, it shouldn’t take long

Be back in the money in no time at all»

He’s gone country, look at them boots

He’s gone country, back to his roots

He’s gone country, a new kind of suit

He’s gone country, here he comes

Yeah, he’s gone country, a new kind of walk

He’s gone country, a new kind of talk

He’s gone country, look at them boots

He’s gone country, oh back to his roots

He’s gone country

He’s gone country

Everybody’s gone country

Yeah, we’ve gone country

The whole world’s gone country