You got your dead train tracks,
This used to be a railroad town.
You got your river runnin’ muddy,
It eats away at solid ground.
You got your funeral procession
Every Tuesday, man, they never let you down.
Where’s my baby? Hey, where’s my baby?
I wake up swimmin’ in a pool of cold sweat,
Screamin’ “Where is my baby?”
I’m in a Motel 6 out in the middle of the sticks
In Lonesome County.
They tell me Truman came through,
It was in nineteen hundred forty-eight.
One time Geraldo Rivera asked directions
Gettin’ to the Interstate.
And me, my car broke down,
They can’t get the part and so I gotta wait.
I guess the Klan moved in
About the time that all the jobs moved out.
Yeah them men in uniform
Just make the townies all twist and shout.
I aint’ whistlin’ Dixie,
It’s the heartland, there ain’t no doubt.
I don’t mind the dead animal heads
Down at the local cafe.
I don’t mind the velvet Elvises
Or humor from the local DJ.
But all these pictures of McCarthy
Got me thinkin’ that I better get away.
Listen to “Lonesome County” at the Marques Bovre Music Hub.
© and ℗ 1994, 1999, 2012 Marques Bovre