Tonight it's 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 chilli dog
White boys howlin’ 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
Gotta past that's filled with lightning
Gotta future filled with rain
Bug buzzin’ in an empty glass
Fiddle scratchin’ some lazy tune
We're just some place that history passed
New dust, new broom
It's a high hot buttered moon
He's got a shiny new wax face
Swears the South's gonna’ rise again soon
All over the place
Rain down on Whitewash County
Smell the air coming up the line
Well, you've changed your face so often
But you never change your mind