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Written at a booth in Deena’s Diner during the summer of 1975.

Just outta Jackson, headin’ for Nashville,
‘Cause I’m gonna be a country star, too;
When the axel started breakin’ and the van started shakin’,
We pulled off on Highway 22.

Well, the gas station guy said we’d have to wait till mornin’,
‘Cause the only mechanic’s gone home;
So we bought Vienna sausage and cold, canned beans,
‘Cause the all-night café was closed.


We’re stuck here on Interstate 40,
We’re stuck, and it’s a damn dry county;
We’re stuck, guess we’ll be here till we’re 80,
Guess we just ran out of our Tennessee luck.

When the mechanic came by in the hot foggy mornin’
Scartched his head and didn’t know what to do;
“But there’s a boy down the road I think can maybe help you,
He’ll come by tomorrow afternoon.”

Now lucky for us there’s Deena’s little diner,
With grits and lemon ice box pie,
‘Cause we’ll be here for a while slappin’ flies and drinkin’ coffee,
And at night we’re gonna try to get high.


Well, I wouldn’t mind if a trucker bought us liquor,
We could sit in his cab getting’ stoned;
But they just pull in for gas, then pull their rigs out fast,
Ain’t a place they want to hang around.

One night up drove a Tennessee state trooper,
Everybody had to hide the beer;
And they all listed to the singin’ and the gas pumps dingin’
And they said, “Y’all come back now, y’hear!”


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