Life Is Just A Tire Swing

I remember the smell

Of the creosote plant

When we had to eat on Easter

With my crazy old uncle and aunt

The lived in a big house

Antibellum style

And the wind would blow across the old bayou

When I was a tranquil little child

Life was just a tire swing

Jumbalaya is the only song I could sing

Blackberry picking, eating fried chicken

Never knew a thing about pain

Life was just a tire swing

In the early summer

My folks packed me off to camp

Me and my cousin Baxter

And out pup tent with a lamp

But in a few days Baxter went home

And left me by myself

But I knew that I'd stay

It was better that way

And I could get along without any help

Life was just a tire swing

Jumbalaya was the only song I could sing

Chasing after sparrows with rubber tipped arrows

Knowing I could never hurt a thing

Life was just a tire swing

And I've never been west of New Orleans or East of Pennsicola

My only contact with the outside world was an RCA victrola

Then Elvis would sing

And then I'd dream

About expensive cars

Who would have figured

That twenty years later

I'd be rubbing shoulders with the stars

Life is just a tire swing

In the early morning

On an Illinios road

I fell asleep at the wheel but was quickly waken up

By a Ma Bell telephone poll

A bunch of Grantwood faces screaming,

"Is he still alive?"

But through the window I could see it hanging from the tree

And I knew that I had survived

Life is still a tire swing

Jumbalaya is the best song I can sing

Blackberry picking, eating fried chicken

Though I finnally learned a lot about pain

Life is just a tire swing