| Ah, sitting in the back seat of a low
|
| Ride automobile
|
| We’re cruisin' on the outskirts
|
| Lookin' for a two-legged deal
|
| We got a Dry County, can’t find no spirits here
|
| Dry County, run for your life out of fear
|
| For things that you cannot find
|
| Across a Dry County line
|
| If the signs say liquor in the front baby
|
| And poker in the rear
|
| All you find is trouble
|
| It’s best that you get out of here
|
| You got a Dry County, can’t find no vices here
|
| No, no, no, no, no
|
| Dry County, run for your life out of fear
|
| Run for your life out of fear
|
| Can’t find no spirits nowhere
|
| For things that you cannot find across
|
| A Dry County line
|
| Ah, L.A. to London, Buzzard Country, New Mexico
|
| Detroit, Atlanta
|
| There ain’t no place that’s too far to go To get away from this
|
| Dry County, can’t find no vices here
|
| Dry County, run for your life out of here
|
| Ah, run baby, keep on runnin'
|
| Ah, there ain’t no Busch nowhere
|
| For things that you cannot find
|
| Across a Dry County line |