If you follow a map way, way down
There is a place somewhere south
Humid as the swamp, hot as the desert
Wouldn't come across it without serious effort
A stone's throw to the east, just a little drive to the border
The rest of the world spins while it sits still in that corner
Twenty five years and some change
Dry, dry prairie with no chance for rain
All the way down there, it can get cold
You get younger while the land grows old
Just around the way and across the bend
Thunder rolls, rattling wind
Night descends, darkness falls
Whispers of the flatland begin to call
He lies down, so he can dream
In hopes for a memory of what he's already seen
Fifth generation of wasted potential
Devil's River bourbon with a side of sentimental
Wake up and remember the past
17 year old starting arm stuck in a cast
What could've been, whose to say -
Maybe, he thinks, I coulda gone all the way
What happens down there don't make the news
Ain't nothing worth anything a reporter could use
The rumor mill churns, did you hear about Jim?
Cheating at the Motel 6 until his wife caught him
Two weeks later, his body turned up in the creek
The sheriff's asking around and her alibi's weak
Of course he'd be asking, after all, it was his son-in-law
But a the investigation says Jim must have taken quite the fall
Sally went to the funeral and said his wife didn't shed a tear
And the sheriff helped his daughter make that .38 special disappear
The stories all end up sinking further into the marsh,
That wanna-be Louisiana swamp, but the mud ain't that harsh
Did you hear about the Smith girl, oh Johnny done up and ran
Mama doesn't think a newborn Sophomore year was part of the plan
One-stop light town and dusty back roads
Riding shotgun with nowhere to go
The land is wrecked, can you hear your dad crying in the back room?
Telling mom he don't know how they're gonna afford food
Plow it till it's dead, till it's splitting itself in half
Drinking so much, you might drink yourself to death
The old boys are fighting again, someone called the cops
Bloody teeth and flying fists, oh they've been licking their chops
It's all forget what I said, it's not what I meant
Reaffirming virtues and lamenting content
Turn on the television, see how they're living in a fantasy
While the adults say the rest of the world is living in insanity
Dream of the waves of California, of the streets of New York
Wonder what it'd be like to not know how the real world really works
Cause somewhere down south, it ain't the suburbs or the city
Not some picturesque farm sitting somewhere pretty
It's not always roses and opportunity,
Ain't got no monetary immunity
Reap what you sow then sow what you reaped,
In the heat of the day on sunburned cheeks
Hear the locusts at night, the coyotes yelling
Go down to the diner to buy the tales the men are selling
Chip on the shoulder, running that loud mouth
That don't even scrape the iceberg of what you'd find if you ever ventured somewhere down south