She'd rather wear a pair of cut-off jeans
Than an evening dress.
And with the windows rolled down,
And her hair blowin all around,
Well, she's a hot Southern mess.<p>She'd take a beer over white wine.
A campfire over candle light.
And when it comes to love,
Her idea of a romantic night<p>Is listenin' to old Alabama
And driving through Tennessee
A little "Dixieland Delight" and
"The Right Time of the Night",
And she can't keep her hands off of me.

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And since the day I left Milwaukee,
Lyncheburg and Bourbon, France
Been makin' a fool out of folks
Just like you,
And helpin' white people dance.
I am medicine and I am poison.
I can help you up or make you fall.
You had some of the best times
You'll never remember with me...
Alcohol.

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Somewhere in my closet
There's a cardboard box just sittin' on a shelf.
It's full of faded memories
And it's been there ever since the night you left.<p>Oh, just forgotten photographs
To remind me of the past.
Oh, but I can still see everything just fine.
Who needs pictures with a memory like mine?
Yeah, who needs pictures with a memory like mine?

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And we danced;
Out there on that empty hardwood floor.
The chairs up and the lights turned way down low
The music played, we held each other close.
And we danced.<p>Like no one else had ever danced before.
I can't explain what happened on that floor.
But the music played,
We held each other close,
And we danced.
Yeah, we danced.