She's been playing that room
on the strip for ten years in Vegas
Every night she looks in the mirror
but she only ages
She's been readin' 'bout 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, new kind of suit
She's gone country, here she comes
Well the folk scene's dead,
but he's holding out in the village
He's been writing songs,
speaking out against wealth and privilege
"I don't believe in money,
but a man could make himself a killin'
'Cause some of that stuff don't sound much
different than Dylan
I hear down there it's changed you see
not as backward 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, 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
Bills are piling up
the pop scene just ain't on a rally
Says, "Honey, I'm a serious composer,
schooled in voice and composition
With the crime and smog these days,
this ain't no place for children
Lord, it sounds so easy,
this 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, new kind of suit
He's gone country, here he comes
He's gone country
He's gone country
Yeah, he's gone country, new kind of walk
He's gone country, 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, oh back to his roots