New orleans
The essex green
Baby pack your things in a pickup truck
We're getting out of this town
There's too many people saying too many things
Too many things to get around
We're getting out of this town
There's too many people saying too many things
Too many things to get around
I met a young man down in New Orleans
Where the sky is blue and the trees are green
He told me bout a shack by the riverside
With a welcome mat outside
Where the whiskey flows and moonlight glows
Breezes blow through the cotton groves
And the sand squishes out from between your toes
Think that's where I want to go
And the millions call to me
And the millions call to me
Don't sell your house down in New Orleans
There's a fortune in gold down there
Spend a little time in the winter sun
We have but a second to spare
You say you've had enough of the life you know
Take you to a place where the time moves slow
Where the sand squishes out from between your toes
Think that's where I want to go
And the millions call to me
And the millions call to me
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