None of them
Eleven Hundred Springs: Long Haired, Tattooed, Hippy Freaks
D This happens every time we step on stage, D A They look at us like we have lost our minds, D G Then we go and break into that San Antonio Rose, D A D And they can't believe they're havin a good time, D Every time we hit a truck stop on the road, D A They say you boys you must be in a band, D G What kind of music do you play and we say country, D A D And there's that look like they don't understand, They call us long haired, tattooed, hippie freaks, G You know they ain't all wrong, D You'd think they never saw a bad outlaw, E A Singin a country song, D But if they'd close their eyes and open their ears, G And let the music speak, D They'd hear good old country music, D A D Not just long haired, tattooed freaks D So it's been some time since I cut this long-assed hair, D A And my ragged looks don't fit in with this place, D G Tattoo parlors, ain't we all spent time in there, D A D We've got the scars that time just can't erase, D But does anyone remember Johnny Paycheck, D A Or Willie, Waylon, or the late and great Doug Sahm, D G Yeah, all them clean cut boys they got in Nashville, D A D Don't know a damn thing about where we're comin from. Repeat Chorus: I'm still the only hell my mama ever raised
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