BOOT COUNTRY (Gabe Zander/BMI) 2003

(fast bluegrass beat)

          C
There's a place called Sussex County, where I was born and raised.
My thoughts are always drifting back there, to my wilder days.
I remember drinkin' in the woods, and getting' stoned all night,
And lookin' like barbarians; we were always ready to riot.

(first chorus):

        F
In Boot Country, some hooligans we were.
     C
We'd vandalize the houses of them rich scum in the 'burbs,
G
Then, when done, we'd head on back, to our White Trash Punk Rock shacks
Then next night we'd do it all again......
        C
In Boot Country.

There's a place called Music City, down in Nashville, Tennessee,
Full of mindless puppets of the music industry.
Who will bust their bubbles; show 'em pretension never wins?
I'll tell ya who, the D.S. Crew; them Nashville Punks and Skins.

(second chorus):

In Boot Country, pop country stars are fags;
We'll still be around when they're stuffing groceries into bags.
We'll pound the latest Country hunk, steal his girl and turn her Punk;
Tomorrow night we'll do it all again......
In Boot Country.

(break)

So to all you kids in New York, Chicago, and L.A.
Take it from the small town Punks across the U.S.A.
It's not how big your crew is, or what clothes you wear
Why, it's the quality of the people you and your boys've got running scared.

(third chorus):

In Boot Country, we tackle the elite,
And make the suits bow down to the kids on the street.
We don't fight with other punks; ain't got time or hoodie thugs.
We're savages against the civilized.........
In Boot Country.

Oh, we're savages against the civilized......
In Boot Country.