Friday night, home team marching band
Whole crowd stomping in the stands
You can hear them pads popping a mile away
Just down the road there's a Kenwood sub
Shaking the door of a black half-ton
Can't hear the words, but you can feel that bass
Heartbeat of a small town Soundtrack to a sundown
Pumping like a freight train Running through these red,
white,
and blue
collar veins Southern wind blowing through pine trees
Cold can popping in the backseat Nothing
like that middle of nowhere sound
Heartbeat of a small town Heartbeat of a small town
Cell phone buzzing up on the dash Baby saying,
boy,
where you at?
Good year's humming down the road to her place
And that whiskey whisper says, pull it over
Sound of that gravel when you hit the
shoulder Chest pounding like that Chevy V8
Heartbeat of a small town Soundtrack to a sundown
Pumping like a freight train Running through these red,
white,
and blue
collar veins Southern wind blowing through pine trees
Cold can popping in the backseat Nothing
like that middle of nowhere sound
Heartbeat of a small town Heartbeat of a small town
Whistle screaming
Sunday morning church bells ringing
Heartbeat
of a small town Soundtrack to a sundown
Pumping like a freight train Running through these red,
white,
and blue collar veins
Southern wind blowing through pine
trees Cold can popping in the backseat
Nothing like that middle of nowhere sound Heartbeat of a small town
Heartbeat of a small town Heartbeat of a small town
Heartbeat of a small town