We’ve got the artifacts of Americana
Spread out on a rug down in Dixiana
On our way home from Susquehana
We’re all out of money this side of Olanta

And the big rigs keep on rolling by
Stockbrokers give us the evil eye
Power windows all rolled up tight
Behind tinted glass, they’re waiting for the light

And I can hear their brain cells burning
A compact disc and radials turning
Why are we selling out is what they’re wondering
Profits are up, the market is thundering

Chorus:
Sitting on the hood of this pick up truck
Needle’s on reserve, we’re all out of luck
Sitting on the hood of this pick up truck
Needle’s on reserve, we’re all out of luck

Somebody’s looking at the toaster oven
We’re asking five dollars, we’ll take next to nothing
Bobby sold his favorite ratchet
I’m asking three bucks for my Boy Scout hatchet

Memories are going at bargain prices
We’ll do anything to avoid a crisis
We’re even selling the family Bible
We’ll ask forgiveness at a tent revival

Chorus

Up walks a little Korean lady
She wants to buy some clothes for her baby
She’s got a look of total confusion
Why are these white people so disillusioned?

She says nobody dies in America
They just transfer to a bigger account
They talk on their phones while they drive their cars
And the money never runs out
They dig holes as big as my homeland
Just to bury their garbage in
They go to their churches every Sunday
After living all week in sin

Chorus

But we know how to mash the pedal
We know how to spin the wheel
If I could only buy us a vowel
If I could afford a meal

We’ve got the artifacts of Americana
Spread out on a rug down in Dixiana
On our way home from Susquehana
We’re all out of money this side of Olanta

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