Well, I gotta go, down the road

Outta my way, Pigfuckers,  it's getting old

I'm leavin town, anywhere bound

Call my name, I won't be found.



With your Wal-Mart gossip, and country-fried philosophy, toothless witticisms abut farm machinery

Just a greasy ham stuffed with high-school football scores, I'm hittin' the road, mister, I cant take it anymore. 



Jacked-up high-school jarheads tradin' licks at the Dairy Queen.

Line-dancing silicon bimbos trying to be seen. 

A thousand well-placed hand grenades in the local mall, my little way of sayin' "Goodbye to all y'all!" 



Well, anyone can see, it's been home to better than me, so I guess I'd better watch what I say. But what am I supposed to do, the one thing I know is true: the only time I like it is when I'm far away