What I Almost Was

It was my senior year,

I just turned eighteen.

I was a friday night hero,

With division one dreams.

I had an offer on the table,

A four year ride.

'Til that fourth and two and twenty four dive.

I left on a stretcher,

Wound up on a crutch

Walked on that next summer.

Wound up getting cut.

Flipped off that coach,

Left that school in the dust,

For letting my dreams go bust.

But I thank God I ain't what I almost was.



Yea, I moved on back home,

And came awful close to being some son-in-law to some CEO.

Coulda been a corner office, country club, suit and tie man.

Answerin' to no one, but her and him.

I ran out on his money, ran out on her love,

At four in the morning I loaded my truck.

I left my home town in a big cloud of dust.

I just had to follow my gut,

And I thank God I ain't what I almost was.



In guitar town I bought this old Epiphone,

Started stringin' chords and words into songs.

I've been putting in time on Sixteenth Avenue,

Pouring out my heart for tips on a stool.

I ain't making a killing, but then theres those nights,

When the song comes together and hits them just right.

The crowds on their feet cause they can't get enough

Of this music I make and I love.

And I thank God I ain't, yea I thank God I ain't,

Yea I thank God I ain't, what I almost was