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This is a story 'bout livin' A tale of a long hard road Ain't a whole lot of misgiving's Of the things that I thought I sowed My daddy was a real hard worker He said, “Son there will come a day" Talk ain't always cheap And here's what daddy had to say "With these hands I've made my livin' With these hands I've held a child With these hands I've climbed a mountain Sometimes we forget We ain't much different at all" He likes grits, you like the apple There ain't nothin' wrong with that He says y'all, you say you'se It all depends on where you're at Well a little bit of music is a whole lot of fun And it's always good for the soul From New York City out to California You know its only rock and roll With these hands we come together With these hands we can change the world With these hands I play my music Sometimes we forget We ain't much different at all Oh, not at all So what I'm trying to tell you Is I'm only one son of the south It's gonna take more than you me and you To work this whole thing out With these hands I've made my livin' With these hands I've held a child With these hands I've climbed a mountain Sometimes we forget, oh With these hands we come together With these hands we can change the world With these hands I play my music Sometimes we forget We ain't much different We ain't much different Ain't much different At all