THE WHITE HOUSE PAINT
IS PEALING BAD
CRY FROM THE WOODS SOUNDED SO SAD
IT WAS LEATHER BOOTS ON ROTTED WOOD
A LONE FIGURE ON THE FRONT PORCH STOOD
JUST STANDING THERE STARING OUT AT THE RAIN
AND HE TOOK A LITTLE TRIP BACK TO MEMORY LANE
TAKE ME BACK ONE HOT NIGHT 
DOWN IN DIXIE LORD 
WHEN HE WAS BEHIND THE WHEEL 
OF THAT FADED RED FORD
HE WAS DRIVING TOO FAST WITH BLOOD ON HIS HANDS
SAYING OVER AND OVER 
HE HAD TO MAKE A STAND
CAUSE SHE CAN’T BE OUT RUNNING ROUND THAT WAY 
SO HE PUT HER DOWN AND THAT’S WHERE SHE STAYED
AND THIS STREET CALLED
MEMORY LANE
IS LINED WITH 
ABANDONED HOUSES AND SHAME
AND I DON’T THINK 
HIS HANDS ARE EVER GONNA COME CLEAN
NOW THE FADED RED FORD SITS UP ON BLOCKS
AND HE SPENDS HIS TIME STARING AT THE CLOCK 
SEE HE GOT NO TRIAL DID NO JAIL 
HE BURIED HER IN THE WOOD AND LEFT HER THERE 
BUT SOME TIMES AT NIGHT 
IN THE PORING RAIN
SHE TAKES HIM BUY THE HAND BACK TO MEMORY LANE
TAKE ME BACK ONE HOT NIGHT 
DOWN IN DIXIE LORD 
WHEN HE WAS BEHIND THE WHEEL 
OF THAT FADED RED FORD
HE WAS DRIVING TOO FAST WITH BLOOD ON HIS HANDS
SAYING OVER AND OVER 
HE HAD TO MAKE A STAND
CAUSE SHE CAN’T BE OUT RUNNING ROUND THAT WAY 
SO HE PUT HER DOWN AND THAT’S WHERE SHE STAYED
AND THIS STREET CALLED
MEMORY LANE
IS LINED WITH 
ABANDONED HOUSES AND SHAME
AND I DON’T THINK 
HIS HANDS ARE EVER GONNA COME CLEAN