“Portland was our Paris, though we met in Tennessee. I’d been drifting out there lately, since my ex walked out on me.
With one foot on the platform, how I made my way down south trying to catch them checks that I wrote with my mouth.
On the Mississippi, my friend Samuel Clemens wrote, it isn’t that it’s pretty just looks better from the boat. You know St. Louis down to New Orleans across the Pontchartrain, anyone will tell you how this song remains the same.
America so blue, but baby why you always gotta break your own rules? From California to the New York island, baby why are you trying to play me for a fool?
Driving through Kentucky with my head hanging low, thought I was getting lucky, but that was so long ago, cause I wouldn’t be living here, if I had the cash. Let’s get home before we run out of gas.
America, so blue, baby why you always gotta break your own rules? From California to the New York island, baby why are you trying to play me for a fool? And baby, why are you so cruel?”