Texty: Drive By Truckers. Southern Rock Opera. Zip City.

Your daddy was mad as hell he is mad at me and you
When he tied that chain to the front of my car
Pulled me out of that ditch that we slid into
Don't know what his problem is why he keeps sending me away
Don't know why I put up with this shit
When you don't put out and Zip City's so far away

Your daddy is a deacon down at the Salem Church of Christ
And he makes good money
As long as Reynolds wrap keeps everything wrapped up tight
Your mama's as good a wife and mama as she can be

And your sister's puttin' that sweet stuff on everybody in town but me
Your brother was the first-born, got ten fingers and ten toes
And it's a damn good thing
'Cause he needs all twenty to keep the closet door closed

Maybe it's the twenty-six mile drive
From Zip City to Colbert Heights keeps my mind clean
Gets me through the night maybe you're just a destination
A place for me to go a way to keep from having to deal
With my seventeen-year-old mind all alone

Keep your drawers on, girl, it ain't worth the fight
By the time you drop them I'll be gone
You'll be right where they fall the rest of your life

You say you're tired of me taking you for granted
Waiting' up till the last minute to call you up and see what you want to do
But you're only fifteen, girl, you ain't got no secretary
And 'For granted' is a mighty big word for a country girl like you

I know it's just your daddy talking, 'cause he knows
That blood red carpet at the Salem Church of Christ
Ain't gonna ever see no wedding between me and you

Zip City, it's a good thing that they built a wall around you
Zip up to Tennessee zip right down to Alabama
I got 350 heads on a 305 engine, I get ten miles to the gallon
I ain't got no good intentions