If you grew up anywhere near a radio in 2005, you probably remember the first time you heard Ronnie Dunn’s voice crack on that final high note. It wasn’t just another country hit. It was a cultural moment. Honestly, Believe Brooks & Dunn lyrics hit a nerve that most commercial songs are too afraid to touch. It’s a song about death, sure, but it’s actually about the stuff we can’t see.
The story is simple. A kid visits an old neighbor named Old Man Wrigley. They talk. The old man dies. The kid grows up and finds his own faith.
But why does it still feel so heavy?
Most people think it’s just a clever piece of songwriting by Ronnie Dunn and Craig Wiseman. It is. But there’s a layer of reality to it that most listeners miss. This isn't just "Christian country." It’s a masterclass in narrative tension.
The True Story Behind Old Man Wrigley
There’s been a lot of chatter over the years about whether Old Man Wrigley was a real person. Ronnie Dunn has been pretty open about the fact that the song is autobiographical in spirit. He grew up in a world where these types of mentors were common. The "white house down the street" isn't just a setting; it’s a memory.
The lyrics describe a mother sending her son over with "things"—groceries, newspapers, the small tokens of community that used to define small-town life. This sets the stage for a relationship built on service and observation.
When you look at the Believe Brooks & Dunn lyrics, the pivot point is the question the boy asks: "How do you keep from going crazy?"
Wrigley had lost his wife and his son. In the world of the song, he’s a man with every reason to be bitter. Instead, he’s at peace. That contrast is the "hook" that catches your heart before the chorus even starts.
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Why the "Words Written in Red" Line Matters
The chorus contains one of the most famous lines in modern country music: I’m findin’ more and more truth in the words written in red.
For the uninitiated, this refers to Bibles where the words of Jesus are printed in red ink. It’s a specific, Southern, Protestant image. It’s visceral. Even if you aren't religious, the imagery of an old man clutching a "Bible bound in leather" while sitting on a porch swing is iconic.
It grounds the abstract concept of "faith" in something physical.
Breaking Down the Song's Structure
Most pop songs go: Verse, Chorus, Verse, Chorus, Bridge, Chorus.
"Believe" follows that, but it plays with time in a way that feels like a short film.
- The Childhood: Establishing the bond and the old man’s perspective.
- The Departure: The narrator goes to college. Life happens.
- The News: A phone call from Mom. Old Man Wrigley is gone.
- The Revelation: The funeral and the realization that the old man was right.
It’s that third act—the funeral—where the song shifts from a story about him to a story about us.
The narrator stands there and realizes he doesn't just hope the old man is right. He believes it.
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The production helps. It starts with just an acoustic guitar and a faint organ. It feels like a church pew. By the end, the arrangement is massive, mirroring the growing conviction of the lyrics.
A Comparison of Versions
While the 2005 original is the gold standard, Brooks & Dunn haven't let the song sit in a vault.
In 2019, they re-recorded it with Kane Brown for the Reboot album. It was a gutsy move. How do you touch a "perfect" song? Brown brought a R&B-inflected soulfulness to it that actually worked.
Then you have the 2024 version with Jelly Roll. This one felt different. Jelly Roll’s voice has a rasp that sounds like a man who has lived through the "going crazy" part of the song. It added a layer of grit that the polished original didn't necessarily have.
Each version proves the same thing: the Believe Brooks & Dunn lyrics are sturdy enough to handle different voices because the core truth of the song is universal.
The "Old Rivers" Controversy
If you’re a country music nerd, you’ve probably heard people claim "Believe" is a rip-off of Walter Brennan’s 1962 hit "Old Rivers."
Let's be real: they are very similar.
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- Both feature an old man who is a mentor to a young boy.
- Both involve the old man passing away.
- Both deal with the afterlife and the "other side."
Is it a "rip-off"? Sorta, but not really. Songwriting is an iterative process. "Old Rivers" is a spoken-word piece about a man and his mule. "Believe" is a soaring ballad about the theology of grief. They share DNA, but "Believe" evolved the concept into something much more emotionally complex.
Why We Still Care in 2026
We live in a world that’s increasingly digital and, frankly, a bit lonely. The idea of a kid walking down the street to help an old neighbor feels like a transmission from a different planet.
The song captures a sense of "lost" community.
When Ronnie sings about "the ins and outs of the small town life," he’s tapping into a nostalgia that isn't just about the past—it’s about a desire for connection. We want to believe that someone like Old Man Wrigley exists. We want to believe that our losses aren't the end of the story.
Actionable Takeaways for Fans
If you're looking to dive deeper into the world of this song, here's how to actually experience it:
- Listen to the "iTunes Originals" version: Ronnie Dunn gives a spoken intro that explains his headspace while writing it. It’s the closest thing to a "Director's Commentary" you'll get.
- Watch the music video again: It won the CMA Music Video of the Year for a reason. The casting of the old man is spot on.
- Check out Craig Wiseman’s other work: He’s the co-writer on this and Tim McGraw’s "Live Like You Were Dying." If you like the emotional weight of "Believe," he’s the architect behind that feeling.
Ultimately, the song works because it doesn't try to be cool. It's unashamedly earnest. In a genre that sometimes relies too heavily on trucks and beer, "Believe" stands as a reminder that country music is at its best when it's just a guy, a guitar, and a story about what happens after we leave this world.
To get the full effect of the songwriting, try comparing the radio edit to the full album version. The album version includes a longer instrumental tail that allows the message to settle in before the silence hits. It’s a small detail, but it makes the experience feel much more like a prayer than a radio hit.