Tonight, I dream, I live at home Law! Yes Yes Back to Tallahassee South On the deck over my sweet sassafras I can not stand in town We must return to the spectacular tropical storm Yes, sir, no lord Do not get close to me home Sweet Home I can not take doses From my love Poon hot seaweed expensive Sweathog ready to make a silk bag From J Paul Getty and his ear The face with his beer home Sweet Home I’m on the pitch Place the exhaust at the station She is a cook Put on the table Had is in town And my love is in the meadow The hands and the plug And my legs and the ghetto Get up, sit down Doing nothing It’s not good when he’s a boss Down “stuffin in the throat For paper notes And their children cry While cities are under their feet When you’re on your way home Sweet Home Mom, take me home sweet I was the last child I’m just a punk on the road