You get your hands in it, plant your roots in it
Dusty head light dance with your boots in it
(Dirt)
You write her name on it, spin your tires on it
Build your corn field whiskey bonfires on it
(Dirt)
You bet your life on it, yeah

It's that elm shade, red rust clay you grew up on
That plowed up ground that your dad damned his luck on
That postgame party field you circle up on
And when it rains you get stuck on
Drift a cloud back behind county roads that you run up
The mud on her jeans that she peeled off and hung up
Her blue-eyed summertime smile looks so good that it hurts
Makes you wanna build a ten percent down white picket fence house on this dirt

You mixed some sweat with it, taken a shovel to it
You've stuck some crosses and some painted goal posts through it
(Dirt)
You know you came from it (dirt)
And someday you'll return to this

Elm shade, red rust clay you grew up on
That plowed up ground that your dad damned his luck on
That postgame party field you circle up on
And when it rains you get stuck on
Drift a cloud back behind county roads that you run up
The mud on her jeans that she peeled off and hung up
Her blue-eyed summertime smile looks so good that it hurts
Makes you wanna build a ten percent down white picket fence house on this dirt

(Dirt)
You know you came from it (dirt)
And someday you'll return to this

Elm shade, red rust clay you grew up on
That plowed up ground that your dad damned his luck on
That postgame party field you circle up on
And when it rains you get stuck on
Drift a cloud back behind county roads that you run up
The mud on her jeans that she peeled off and hung up
Her blue eyed summertime smile looks so good that it hurts
Makes you wanna build a ten percent down white picket fence house on this dirt
Makes you wanna build a ten percent down white picket fence house on this dirt

You know you came from it
Yeah, and someday you'll return to it

Copyright: Round Hill Music Big Loud Songs
Writer(s): Christopher G. Tompkins, Rodney Dale Clawson