The Boys of Fall.

When I feel that chill, smell that fresh cut grass;
I’m back in my helmet, cleats, and shoulder pads,
Standing in the huddle, listening to the call.
Fans going crazy for the boys of fall.

They didn’t let just anybody in that club;
It took every ounce of heart and sweat and blood
To get to wear those game-day jerseys down the hall
The kings of the school, man, we’re the boys of fall.

In little towns like mine, that’s all they’ve got;
Newspaper clippings fill the coffee shops.
The old men will always think they know it all,
Young girls will dream about the boys of fall

Well it’s turn to face the stars and stripes,

It’s fighting back them butterflies.
It’s call it in the air, alright,
Yes sir, we want the ball.
And it’s knocking heads and talking trash,
It’s slinging mud and dirt and grass.
It’s I got your number, I got your back
When your back’s against the wall.
You mess with one man, you got us all.
The boys of fall.

- Kenny Chesney. <3

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