Run, run to the east, confession trash
We don't need your thrills or your call-book cash
Let just, nature's got plans to keep you up there

Swamps, fiddles that whine about the mayor
Arcades are divine, they've got conditioned air
Fan-tail, backwash and factory rules will stay up here

Hands off of the bayou
(Hit the bong)

Heels, stay in your state, it's a new south trap
What, what is the bait? You silly aqua-cat
War, college exams, you know I learned a lot
About the fiction ya tossed and the father's fat and lost!

Your father's fat and lost
Your chivalry is lost
Your chivalry in shame

Hands off of the bayou
(Hit the bong)