Songs for Sale

Boiled peanuts anytime, painted on a plywood sign Pull to the shoulder and buy a sack An old man with a dirty face swears they're the best you'll taste Grows 'em fresh in that red dirt field out back, yeah, that's a fact Grace is a mechanic's wife and their toe-head boys are her whole life Sews patches on blue jeans night and day Never does much for herself, doesn't dream of fame or wealth Just a ballpark bleacher and a place to pray Some are called to preach the gospel, string fence in Colorado Some are born to raise a family Swing a hammer at a nail, haul bricks or carry mail Go to college, Duke or Yale, but me I got songs for sale There's not a lot of tread on my tires, In some spots you can see the wires Just hope they make it to the next town so I can sing I'm still learning lots of lessons, I'm still calling it a profession Travelin' 'round strummin' these guitar strings Some are good at mending bones, fixing drinks and telephones Some are born to wear pin stripes on their sleeves Swing a hammer at a nail, haul bricks or carry mail Go to college, Duke or Yale, but me I got songs for sale I see it in a lot of places I read it in a lot of faces Some are called to preach the gospel, string fence in Colorado Some are born to raise a family Swing a hammer at a nail, haul bricks or carry mail Go to college, Duke or Yale, and me Yeah me, I got songs for sale Yeah, I got songs for sale