This is a story 'bout livin'

A tale of a long hard road

Ain't a whole lot of misgivin's

Of the things that I thought I sowed

My daddy was a real hard worker

He said son there will come a day

Talk ain't always cheap

And here's what daddy had to say

With these hands I've made my livin'

With these hands I've held a child

With these hands I've climbed a mountain

Sometimes we forget

We ain't much different at all



He likes grits, you like the apple

There ain't nothin' wrong with that

He says y'all, you say you'se

It all depends on where you're at

Well a little bit of music is a whole lot of fun

And its always good for the soul

From New York City out to California

You know its only rock and roll



With these hands we come together

With these hands we can change the world

With these hands I play my music

Sometimes we forget

We ain't much different at all



Oh, not at all

So what I'm trying to tell you

Is that I'm only one son of the South

Its gonna take more than you me and you

To work this whole thing out



With these hands I've made my livin'

With these hands I've held a child

With these hands I've climbed a mountain

Sometimes we forget



With these hands we come together

With these hands we can change the world

With these hands I play my music

Sometimes we forget

We ain't much different

We ain't much different

Ain't much different

At all