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