| Your Daddy was mad as hell
|
| He was mad at me and you
|
| When he tied that chain to the front of my car and pulled me out of that ditch
|
| that I slid into
|
| Don’t know what his problem is
|
| Why he keeps sending me away
|
| Don’t know why I put up with his shit
|
| When you don’t put out and Zip City’s so far away
|
| Your Daddy is a deacon down at the Salem Church of Christ
|
| And he makes good money as long as Reynolds Wrap keeps everything wrapped up
|
| tight
|
| Your Mama’s as good a wife and Mama as she can be
|
| And your sister’s puttin' that sweet stuff on everybody in town but me
|
| Your brother was the first-born, got ten fingers and ten toes
|
| And it’s a damn good thing cause he needs all twenty to keep the closet door
|
| closed
|
| Maybe it’s the twenty-six mile drive from Zip City to Colbert Heights
|
| Keeps my mind clean, gets me through the night
|
| Maybe you’re just a destination, a place for me to go
|
| Keeps me from having to deal with my seventeen-year-old mind all alone
|
| Keep your drawers on, girl, it ain’t worth the fight
|
| By the time you drop them I’ll be gone
|
| And you’ll be right where they fall the rest of your life
|
| You say you’re tired of me taking you for granted
|
| Waiting up 'til the last minute to call you up and see what you want to do
|
| But you’re only fifteen, girl, you ain’t got no secretary
|
| And «for granted» is a mighty big word for a country girl like you
|
| I think that’s just your Daddy talking
|
| 'Cause he knows that blood red carpet at the Salem Church of Christ
|
| Ain’t gonna ever see no wedding between me and you
|
| Zip City, it’s a good thing that they built a wall around you
|
| Zip up to Tennessee or zip right down to Alabama
|
| I got 350 heads on a 305 engine
|
| I get ten miles to the gallon
|
| I ain’t got no good intentions |