Jump Little Children Underground Elite
Mississippi moonshine's got me doubled over laughing in pain back at the Chevron the chicken wings made you feel just the same That bucket of bayou that licked you like a 5 pound block of salt I through it to the puppy that was yappin' on the hot asphalt The wisest word I ever heard was written on that bathroom wall in the mississippi river greasy spoon in southern Arkansas skimming 'cross the scrawl of the underground elite retorts I see a beacon to the traveler paraphrased sweet and short CHORUS A word to the wise a breath to the philosopher a hand to the devil a gift to the masses whatever you do don?t whatever you do don?t whatever you do don't take my advice Mister blister burning on the fumes of a day hard earned a bullet through the blue highways 'till the whole damn world is turned we're driving and we're driving until driving it don't feel real but it's so easy all you do is get some sleep behind the wheel Take a second to reflect on a peculiarity every stop we've made has shared a certain similarity there are juices and there's candies and there's sodas of all brand names but the message on the walls from town to town has been the same CHORUS Permanent marker with a fat tip scratch off the paint with a dime grease up the mirror with some lipstick a revolution is not a crime Finally before my eyes there it was for me to see at a truck stop in the lonely hills of eastern Tennessee I'd tell you how I felt if I could but I just can't When I happened on that bathroom with a fresh coat of paint CHORUS ...
