Tonight its hot down here
I can almost smell the rain
And I can almost taste the fear
Behind your name
Fans turning on the ceiling
I feel sticky as a chili dog
White boys howling in the evening
On that hollow log
Tall tales down the river
Say we aim to bury the truth
But the right hand just delivered
The devil in a suit
And he talks big in Whitewash County
Talks sweet as sugar cane
Got a past thats filled with lightning
Got a future filled with rain
Bug buzzing in an empty glass
Fiddle scratching some lazy tune
Were just some place that history passed
New dust, new broom
And its a high hot buttered moon
Hes got a shiny new wax face
Swears the Souths gonna rise again soon
All over the place
Rain down on Whitewash County
Smell the air coming up the line
Well youve changed your face so often
But you never change your mind
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