Music Video

Credits

PERFORMING ARTISTS
Brad Paisley
Brad Paisley
Electric Guitar
Wes Hightower
Wes Hightower
Background Vocals
Ben Sesar
Ben Sesar
Drums
Bryan Sutton
Bryan Sutton
Mandolin
Eric Darken
Eric Darken
Percussion
Jim "Moose" Brown
Jim "Moose" Brown
Wurlitzer Piano
Justin Williamson
Justin Williamson
Fiddle
Kevin "Swine" Grantt
Kevin "Swine" Grantt
Electric Bass Guitar
Randle Currie
Randle Currie
Steel Guitar
Ron Block
Ron Block
Banjo
COMPOSITION & LYRICS
Brad Paisley
Brad Paisley
Songwriter
PRODUCTION & ENGINEERING
Frank Rogers
Frank Rogers
Producer
Brian David Willis
Brian David Willis
Recording Engineer
Drew Bollman
Drew Bollman
Assistant Mixing Engineer
Hank Williams
Hank Williams
Mastering Engineer
Justin Niebank
Justin Niebank
Mixing Engineer
Richard Barrow
Richard Barrow
Recording Engineer
Steve Short
Steve Short
Assistant Recording Engineer

Lyrics

[Verse 1]
If I could write a letter to me
And send it back in time to myself at seventeen
First, I'd prove it's me by sayin' look under your bed
There's a Skoal can and a Playboy no one else would know you hid
And then I'd say I know it's tough
When you break up after seven months
[PreChorus]
And yeah, I know you really liked her and it just don't seem fair
But all I can say is pain like that is fast and it's rare
[Chorus]
And, oh, you got so much goin' for you, goin' right
But I know at seventeen it's hard to see past Friday night
She wasn't right for you and still you feel like there's a knife
Stickin' out of your back and you're wonderin' if you'll survive
But you'll make it through this and you'll see
You're still around to write this letter to me
[Verse 2]
At the stop sign at Tomlinson and Eighth
Always stop completely, well, don't just tap your brakes
And when you get a date with Bridgett, make sure the tank is full
On second thought, forget it, that one turns out kinda cool
Each and every time you have a fight
Just assume you're wrong and Dad is right
[PreChorus]
And you should really thank Ms. Brinkman, she spends so much extra time
It's like she sees the diamond underneath and she's polishin' you till you shine
[Chorus]
And, oh, you got so much goin' for you, goin' right
But I know at seventeen it's hard to see past Friday night
Tonight's the bonfire rally, but you're stayin' home instead
Because if you fail Algebra, Mom and Dad'll kill you dead
But trust me, you'll squeak by and get a C
And you're still around to write this letter to me
[Bridge]
Well, you got so much up ahead and you'll make new friends
You should see your kids and wife
And I'd end by sayin' have no fear
These are nowhere near the best years of your life
[PreChorus]
I guess I'll see you in the mirror when you're a grown man
P.S., go hug Aunt Rita every chance you can
[Chorus]
And, oh, you got so much goin' for you, goin' right
But I know at seventeen it's hard to see past Friday night
I wish you'd study Spanish, I wish you'd take a typin' class
I wish you wouldn't worry, let it be
Hey, I'd say have a little faith and you'll see
[Outro]
If I could write a letter to me
To me
Written by: Brad Paisley
instagramSharePathic_arrow_out