I believe this life we're living ain't all there is And there's something better up there waiting after this I've sat on Sunday mornings, listened to that preacher preach And I get what he's saying, but man if you ask me, you'd think Turn the gates, you'd think, streets of gold And I think about them longleaf pines lined on tobacco roads, you'd think Skies of blue, you'd think, angels' wings I think Grandpa on an old creek bank in a zip code 33 We all got our own opinions, we all believe what we believe But everything that's heaven to you is Carolina to me I've already walked with Jesus, going through kill-devil hills And I've talked to God face-to-face, sitting high up in Linville But if you still want your mansion and your perfect paradise Then go on and get yours, and I'll head on back to mine, you'd think Turn the gates, you'd think, streets of gold And I think about them longleaf pines lined on tobacco roads, you'd think Skies of blue, you'd think, angels' wings I think wild horses on the outer banks running up and down the beach We all got our own opinions, we all believe what we believe But everything that's heaven to you is Carolina to me Well, if you still want your mansion and your perfect paradise Then go on and get yours, and I'll head on back to mine You'd think, pearly gates, you'd think, streets of gold And I think about them longleaf pines lined on tobacco roads, you'd think Skies of blue, you'd think, angels' wings And I think about old Andy Griffith whistling on TV We all got our own opinions, we all believe what we believe But everything that's heaven to you is Carolina to me Is Carolina to me Is Carolina to me