Memory Lane

THE WHITE HOUSE PAINT

IS PEELING BAD

CRY FROM THE WOODS SOUNDED SO SAD

IT WAS LEATHER BOOTS ON ROTTED WOOD

A LONE FIGURE ON THE FRONT PORCH STOOD

JUST STANDING THERE STARING OUT AT THE RAIN

AND HE TOOK A LITTLE TRIP BACK TO MEMORY LANE

TAKE ME BACK ONE HOT NIGHT

DOWN IN DIXIE, LORD

WHEN HE WAS BEHIND THE WHEEL

OF THAT FADED RED FORD

HE WAS DRIVING TOO FAST WITH BLOOD ON HIS HANDS

SAYING OVER AND OVER

HE HAD TO MAKE A STAND

‘CAUSE SHE CAN’T BE OUT RUNNING ‘ROUND THAT WAY

SO HE PUT HER DOWN AND THAT’S WHERE SHE STAYED

AND THIS STREET CALLED

MEMORY LANE

IS LINED WITH

ABANDONED HOUSES AND SHAME

AND I DON’T THINK

HIS HANDS ARE EVER GONNA COME CLEAN

NOW THE FADED RED FORD SITS UP ON BLOCKS

AND HE SPENDS HIS TIME STARING AT THE CLOCK

SEE HE GOT NO TRIAL DID NO JAIL

HE BURIED HER IN THE WOODS AND LEFT HER THERE

BUT SOMETIMES AT NIGHT

IN THE POURING RAIN

SHE TAKES HIM BY THE HAND BACK TO MEMORY LANE

TAKE ME BACK ONE HOT NIGHT

DOWN IN DIXIE, LORD

WHEN HE WAS BEHIND THE WHEEL

OF THAT FADED RED FORD

HE WAS DRIVING TOO FAST WITH BLOOD ON HIS HANDS

SAYING OVER AND OVER

HE HAD TO MAKE A STAND

‘CAUSE SHE CAN’T BE OUT RUNNING ‘ROUND THAT WAY

SO HE PUT HER DOWN AND THAT’S WHERE SHE STAYED

AND THIS STREET CALLED

MEMORY LANE

IS LINED WITH

ABANDONED HOUSES AND SHAME

AND I DON’T THINK

HIS HANDS ARE EVER GONNA COME CLEAN