i got a suit but it dont match my boots
a working stiff just aint me
I’d rather be, where the grass is green
then in line for the cash machine
boy, a bag of loot is just a noose
tide up to a tree
that sheriff aint mean, he don’t known what i’ve been
and he don’t know shit from cream

HBO’s hobo’s up and hoes down
The jamboree’s live in missin a toe town
parking lots up, where the lawn has been mowed down
malls used to be hills that we strode down
STOP
This is a ho down !!!!!

Nobody knows where hillbilly joe drown
ledgend has it, his soul still aint found
cold nights, box cars like ghost towns
on these railroads his songs are still bound
(INTENSE REVERB WHISTLE SOLO)

Annie on the left side, jim in the middle
Somebody strike up that goddam fiddle...