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