I grew up ina small town, spent the winters
loading box cars full of beans
never gave that much thought where that train was headed,
maybe south to new orleans

chorus: with 80 acres left to plant, & no one left in town
that old john deere don't drive itself, I guess I'll stick around
things aint what they used to be

we used to drive on icey streets at night
and let the cops chase us around
used to shine our cars all day long
so the moonlight would shine back to the stars

half me friends are leaving on by one
taking the high road out of town
the other half done lost their shirts
the price of corn and beans keeps coming down

there's half a chance of rain next week
all our money's bettin' on the ground
that's half a chance that we'll be here next year
if next week's rain comes falling down

things aint what they used to be