Credits
PERFORMING ARTISTS
Dann Huff
Acoustic Guitar
Alan Umstead
Violin
Carl Gorodetzky
Violin
Carole Rabinowitz
Cello
Charlie Judge
Keyboards
Chris McHugh
Drums
Conni Ellisor
Violin
Eric Darken
Percussion
Gordon Mote
Piano
Jay DeMarcus
Bass
Jim Grosjean
Viola
Joe Don Rooney
Electric Guitar
Jonathan Yudkin
Mandolin
Kris Wilkinson
Viola
Pam Sixfin
Violin
Paul Franklin
Steel Guitar
The Nashville String Machine
Strings
Tom Bukovac
Electric Guitar
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Allen Shamblin
Songwriter
Rob Mathes
Songwriter
Charlie Judge
String Arranger
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Rascal Flatts
Producer
Dann Huff
Producer
Adam Ayan
Mastering Engineer
Ben Fowler
Recording Engineer
Christopher Rowe
Editing Engineer
Drew Bollman
Assistant Mixing Engineer
John Netti
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Justin Niebank
Mixing Engineer
Lowell Reynolds
Assistant Recording Engineer
Mark Hagen
Recording Engineer
Mark Petaccia
Assistant Recording Engineer
Nathan Yarborough
Assistant Recording Engineer
Roy Wallace
Assistant Recording Engineer
Seth Morton
Assistant Recording Engineer
Taylor Nyquist
Assistant Recording Engineer
Lyrics
You must have been in a place so dark
You couldn't feel the light
Reachin' for you through that stormy cloud
Now here we are gathered in our little hometown
This can't be the way you meant to draw a crowd
Oh why? That's what I keep asking
Was there anything I could've said or done?
Oh, I had no clue you were masking
A troubled soul, God only knows
What went wrong and why
You would leave the stage
In the middle of a song
Now in my mind, I'll keep you frozen
As a seventeen-year-old
Rounding third to score the winning run
You always played with passion
No matter what the game
When you took the stage
You'd shine just like the sun
Oh why? That's what I keep asking
And was there anything I could've said or done?
Oh, I had no clue you were masking
A troubled soul, oh, God only knows
What went wrong and why
And why you would leave the stage
In the middle of a song
Yeah, yeah
Now the oak trees are swaying
In the early autumn breeze
A golden sun is shining on my face
Through tangled thoughts
I hear a mockingbird sing
This old world really ain't that bad of a place
Oh why?
There's no comprehending
And who am I to try to judge or explain?
Oh, but I do have one burning question
Who told you life (who told you life)
Wasn't worth the fight?
They were wrong, they lied
Now you're gone and we cry
'Cause it's not like you to walk away
In the middle of a song
Your beautiful song
Your absolutely beautiful song
Writer(s): Allen Shamblin, Rob Mathes
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