(Intro - spoken, low) Pronunciation: ANY-WHO-zee — stress on "WHO". Two-step feel, 104 BPM.
(Verse 1)
I was raised where the gum trees bend by Miller's Creek,
Workin' six days straight, savin' Saturdays for a little peace,
Got dust on my boots and an old Frey tattoo on my sleeve,
Headin' for the willow bend where the sun falls off the leaves.
Jill's got the esky, Dave's got a cigarette lighter song,
Tailgate's down, Rosie the truck hums along,
A busted hubcap, last week's cherry pie in the back,
Tonight we'll trade our worries for a moonlit track.
(Chorus)
Yeah — Any Whosy, roll the tailgate down (Lead: "Any Whosy?" Crowd: "We're gone!")
Kickin' up dust on County Road Nine,
Shout it loud, don't you hang around (Lead: "Any Whosy?" Crowd: "We're gone!")
Any Whosy — cross that line.
Life's too short for sittin' still,
Two-step the gravel, chase that country thrill,
From Miller's Creek to Hank's busted jukebox sign,
Any Whosy — light that night.
(Verse 2)
Radio's spinnin' that sweet 90s twang and a dare,
Sarah bet me twelve bucks I'd jump the old bridge there,
I still got that scar from laughin' at a dare in '03,
Got a faded class-year inked where everyone can see.
Girls in cutoffs swing from a rusty porch swing,
Old boys swap stories 'bout the trouble that they bring,
Got a text from the boss sayin', "Where you at?" — I swore,
"Any Whosy, I'm gone," and I shut that phone door.
(Chorus)
Yeah — Any Whosy, roll the tailgate down (Lead: "Any Whosy?" Crowd: "We're gone!")
Kickin' up dust on County Road Nine,
Shout it loud, don't you hang around (Lead: "Any Whosy?" Crowd: "We're gone!")
Any Whosy — cross that line.
Life's too short for second guessin',
We trade our plans for midnight confessin',
From Miller's Creek to a diner glowed in neon fine,
Any Whosy — let's burn that sign.
(Bridge)
Maybe we'll wind up by the river bend,
Maybe the dare becomes the story we defend,
We'll laugh 'til dawn, count constellations on the run,
No map, no clock — just the rising sun.
(Final Chorus — variation)
Any Whosy — roll the tailgate down (Lead: "Any Whosy?" Crowd: "We're gone!")
Kickin' dust on County Road Nine,
Shout it loud, from a dirt road start (Lead: "Any Whosy?" Crowd: "We're gone!")
To sunrise again — cross that line.
Life's too short for sittin' still,
Every mile's a new kind of thrill,
From Miller's Creek to morning's first light divine,
Any Whosy — we're home by sunrise.
(Outro)
Yeah, Any Whosy — that's how we ride,
No map, just a tailgate and a right-hand line,
Country hearts, a busted jukebox, and a rebel crowd —
Any Whosy, sing it proud. (Crowd: "We're gone!")
