He was a legend of the neighborhood
always walking his black dog around,
and when I’d see him with his headphones on
I’d call out “Aaron Brown!
Aaron Brown, what’s going down?”
Oh that boy be a walking
but he’d stop and start talking
to anyone who came around.
In his camo jacket
his music was a racket
his headphones blared with sound.
And in summer and spring
he never thought such a thing
of shoes he walked barefoot through town.
Oh, that was our Aaron,
that was our Aaron,
that was our Aaron Brown.
And you’d be in luck
if you saw his blue truck
barreling right down the road.
‘Cause he’s smile and wave
and he most likely gave
stranded walkers a fun ride home.
With his foot on the pedal
he blasted country or metal
with him it would always change.
And in his overalls
with a slight southern drawl
he was anything but strange,
‘Cause he was our Aaron,
he was our Aaron Brown,
he was the silliest guy
you could ever be around.