Mat Kearney

Your poker face ain’t fooling nobody, nobody here
We’ve all felt the flame and shed those same tears
Driving home to a one man hell, still counting years, still counting years
Hey brother we’re all learning to love again
‘Cause that was the real you running through the fields of gold wide open
Standing in places no picture contains
That was the real you, windows down, we could smell the mint fields crying
Sing with the radio to song we can’t name
That was the real
you saying, “Maybe I’m not too young to be a cowboy.”
Hey brother, we’re all learning to love again
Hey brother, we’re all learning to love again
Making up your bed that day on a foreign floor between foreign walls
Thinking ’bout the words you’d say to a phone that never calls
Feel the weight of your father’s ring and all those dreams, and all those dreams
Hey brother, we’re all learning to love again
‘Cause that was the real you running through the fields of gold wide open