| Oh there’s a pick-up truck that’s rusting in the yard
|
| And a barkin' dog out front like he’s on guard
|
| Well, the birds are singin' in the trees
|
| Ain’t nothing like the summer breeze
|
| A hot wind is blowing through the trailer park
|
| Well, just a mile further ain’t that far
|
| Well, Main street looks like an old postcard
|
| Won’t you check the aisle, take the dollar gas
|
| And watch the convicts pick up trash
|
| Livin' on the land of the brave and free
|
| Georgia, Carolina and Tennessee
|
| Here’s the place you really just gotta be
|
| Alabama, Louisiana, Mississippi
|
| From Texarkana down to Panama City
|
| Well, past the tracks on the other side of town
|
| They got a little shack that’s almost fallin' down
|
| They were drinkin' whiskey with their friends
|
| Well, don’t you know they’re drunk again
|
| And you know that nothing is ever gonna change
|
| Well, they got themselves a rockabilly band
|
| And I went there once to try to lend a hand
|
| Yeah, the music is hot and the beers are cold
|
| I ain' that young, I ain’t that old
|
| It’s the little things gonna satisfy our souls
|
| They got the Nascar, NFL and the NRA
|
| I’m so glad I’m livin' in the USA
|
| Alabama, Louisiana, Mississippi
|
| From Texarkana to Panama City
|
| They got a pick-up truck that’s rusting in the yard
|
| And a barkin' dog out front like he’s on guard
|
| Well, the birds are singin' in the trees
|
| Ain’t nothing like the summer breeze
|
| A hot wind is blowing through the trailer park
|
| Georgia, Carolina and Tennessee
|
| Here’s the place you really just gotta be
|
| Alabama, Louisiana, Mississippi
|
| From Texarkana down to Panama City
|
| They got the Nascar, NFL and the NRA
|
| I’m so glad I’m livin' in the USA
|
| Alabama, Louisiana, Mississippi
|
| From Texarkana to Panama City |