Story Behind The Song

Inspired by a ride in the country north of Nashville, TN--the rolling hills and fields, the trees, the land, the beauty of small towns outside the city.

Song Description

The singer is in love with his small town and rural roots.

Lyrics

HALF WAY THERE
music and words by Chris Gantry, Brian James and Sam Cooper ©2010
615-469-4067 jericat@yahoo.com

(Verse 1)
There's a tire swing tied to an old oak tree,
By a field full of cotton as far as the eye can see.
We had a bell on the porch mama would ring,
When it was time to come and get it.
Around the table we'd bow our heads and pray,
Mama would swat our hands if we didn't wait.
And Daddy gave a look if we misbehaved,
And we all knew that he meant it.
All those moments that we shared,
May not have been heaven, but it's half way there.

(Chorus 1)
And nothing's changed in all the years in the town that I was born in,
Ain't an empty spot in the parking lot at church on Sunday morning.
And old men sit and talk about their days of glory,
And I've heard it all a thousand times, but I still love their stories.
Well I'm in this town and it's in me, and it's something we all share,
It may not be heaven, but it's half way there.

(Verse 2)
When heavy rains set in last fall,
Hand in hand, we built a sandbag wall,
Then our little town didn't seem so small,
When we all pulled together.
We like to do things our own way,
That's what I love about this place.
Had a chance to leave, but I stayed,
And probably will forever.
It's hard to find a place like this, they're getting rare,
It may not be heaven, but it's half way there.

(Chorus 2)
And the streets roll up at 10 'o' clock almost every night.
And the only thing on Main Street is a blinking traffic light.
And nothing here is flashy, but what'll blind your eyes,
Are the seven million stars that you'll see up in the skies.
I'm not saying that we're perfect, oh, but we don't care,
It may not be heaven, but we're half way there.
It may not be heaven, but we're half way there.

(Repeat chorus 1)
And nothing's changed in all the years in the town that I was born in,
Ain't an empty spot in the parking lot at church on Sunday morning.
And old men sit and talk about their days of glory,
And I've heard it all a thousand times, but I still love their stories.
Well I'm in this town and it's in me, and it's something we all share,
It may not be heaven, but it's half way there.
It may not be heaven, but it's half way there.
It may not be heaven, but it's half way there.