Lyrics:

She was a level-headed dancer, on the road to alcohol
And I was just a soldier on my way to Montreal
Well, she pressed her chest against me
About the time the jukebox broke
Yeah, she give me a peck on the back of the neck
And these are the words she spoke

Blow up your TV, throw away your paper
Go to the country, build you a home
Plant a little garden, eat a lot of peaches
Try and find Jesus on your own

Well, I sat there at the table and I acted real naïve
For I knew that topless lady had something up her sleeve
Well, she danced around the bar room
And she did the hoochie-coo
Yeah, she sang her song all night long
Telling me what to do

Blow up your TV, throw away your paper
Go to the country, build you a home
Plant a little garden, eat a lot of peaches
Try and find Jesus on your own

Well, I was young and hungry
And about to leave that place
When just as I was leaving
Well, she looked me in the face
I said, 'You must know the answer'
She said, 'No, but I'll give it a try'
And to this very day we've been living our way
Here is the reason why

We blew up our TV, threw away our paper
Went to the country, built us a home
Had a lot of children, fed 'em on peaches
They all found Jesus on their own