seat expectation in the air
There's room for a man to wear his hat
in this church of red and cream
And we are pilgrims of purpose,
And is that a fifty -five, man?
I used to drive a fifty -five
What's she got under the hood, man?
Live oaks, draped with Spanish moss
Like rags of shoals and ball gowns
Shade the shame -faced dowagers
And on the bluffs at Vicksburg,
the big guns still guard the river
as they haul their heavy loads
Is that a fifty -five, man?
I used to drive a fifty -five
What's she got un der the hood, man?
Outside the closed -down undertakers
to Lincolnhurst's standing
The church where Sonny Boy lies buried,
burned down to the ground
The crucifix of rusty nails and ashes
There's no panther in the cane break,
no devil at the crossroads,
but here's a fifty -seven
Cadillac and it's tearin' down the road.
It's Bird Breath and his buddies,
they're comin' from Chicago.
They got a fifth of whiskey,
they got a hundred miles to go.
They are barreling from the west side
Man, I used to drive a .55
Boy, she's got an other hood, man,
Oh, the young people are left here
for the steel mills and assembly lines
For the marshalling yards
But the cities, they are dying
And the industries are wasted
But there sure is no good reason
To come back here anymore
Is that a fifty -five man
Who used to drive a fifty -five?
What's she got under the hood,
We drove north from New Orleans
Got mu sic on the bench seat,
There's room for a man to wear his hat
in this church of red and green
And we are pilgrims of purpose
What you got under the hood, man?