Washboards on the back roads headlights in my eyes
Hands on the wheel and a pistol by my side
Love line is on the radio barely coming through
Nine pounds in the back seat rural route fifty two
The house is falling down it’s a hundred years old
The fences all be wound and the live stock is sold
The porch swing sits empty blowing in the breeze
Coyotes in the front yard and a country on its knees
Hard times been a raining down the levy wont hold anymore
Load up all the rifles and dead bolt all the doors
Hard times been a raining down I’m doing what I can
Red diesel on the highway and blood stains on my hands
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