(Verse 1) We clocked out at five and loaded up the truck, Boards in the back and a little bit of luck, Cooler full of cold ones, buddies ridin' shotgun, Headed to the tournament where the good times come. From Grand Rapids down to Traverse Bay, Michigan Cornhole League bringing players out to play, Some throw for trophies, some just for fun, But everybody's family when the bags start to run. (Pre-Chorus) No pros, no pressure, no million-dollar dreams, Just friends and laughter on a Friday evening scene. (Chorus) When the bags fly high beneath the summer lights, Everybody's smiling on these Michigan nights, Cornhole America bringing people together, Throwing blocks and airmails in any kind of weather. Raise a beer, tell a story, let the good times roll, It's more than just a game, it's a way of life we know, From beginners to champions, we're all chasing the same goal, Making memories one toss at a time around the hole. (Verse 2) There's a rookie on board three throwing his first game, A veteran on board four everybody knows by name, Somebody just hit an airmail and the crowd went wild, The scoreboard doesn't matter when you're living like a child. Road trips to Gaylord, Cedar Springs and Ionia, Every weekend feels a little like a reunion, We've got music in the background, friends all around, The sound of resin bags landing is the sweetest sound. (Pre-Chorus) No matter where you're from or how you throw today, There's always room for one more player in the game. (Chorus) When the bags fly high beneath the summer lights, Everybody's smiling on these Michigan nights, Cornhole America bringing people together, Throwing blocks and airmails in any kind of weather. Raise a beer, tell a story, let the good times roll, It's more than just a game, it's a way of life we know, From beginners to champions, we're all chasing the same goal, Making memories one toss at a time around the hole. (Bridge) We ain't chasing contracts, We ain't chasing fame, We're chasing weekends, And one more game. The friendships last forever, The trophies fade away, But the stories get better Every single day. (Final Chorus) When the bags fly high beneath the summer lights, Michigan Cornhole League shining bright tonight, Cornhole America, where everybody belongs, From backyard players to the ones throwing strong. So here's to the road trips, the laughs and the friends, The tournaments and tailgates that never seem to end, We'll keep throwing bags long after we're old, Making memories one toss at a time around the hole. (Outro) Yeah the bags fly high... And the good times roll... Michigan nights... And a whole lotta cornhole...