Faded Jeans

When I think of you, I see country roads Not freeways or boulevards Not fancy royal gardens But dusty backyards When I think of you, I see your grandma's house Not a mansion with marble floors Just a simple sunny place With old screen doors When I think of you, I think of kindness Honesty and grace No make-up or perfume Just a smile on your pretty face When I think of you, I hear music Not symphonies or brass bands But voices and guitars Played by calloused hands When I think of you, I think of lemonade Not sherry or champagne Not perfect chinaware Something chipped and plain When I think of you, I see kitchens No parlors or ballrooms No butlers and chambermaids I see aprons and brooms When I think of you I think of turquoise And not diamonds and pearls Not bright lights and city ladies But sunsets and hometown girls When I think of you, I think of walking Not private planes or limousines Not high heels and satin gowns But sandals and faded jeans Mmm