Lyrics:

The red Georgia clay when mixed with the rainSure made for one nasty messAh, but we were ridin&ampapos; high in that old truck of mineIn deep as we could getAlways looking for a rut, tryin&ampapos; not to get stuckAnd slinging that mud everywhere, growin&ampapos; up down thereMe and my friends where the deep river bendsHad a long rope tied to a treeTakin&ampapos; turns on the swing, takin&ampapos; turns takin&ampapos; drinksAnd I don&ampapos;t mean iced teaA good buzz later playing chicken with the gatorsWay too young to be scared, growin&ampapos; up down thereAnd those tan little peaches turnin&ampapos; us onKeepin&ampapos; things hot all summer longIf I could go back in a second, I swearWell. I&ampapos;d still be growin&ampapos; up down thereWe&ampapos;ll, nothin&ampapos; going on never lasted too longWe were good at makin&ampapos; good timesFind a field, spread the word, keep a bonfire burnin&ampapos;Through both ends of the nightHad the radio up, had a keg in the truckAnd tryin&ampapos; to get lucky somewhereGrowin&ampapos; up down thereAnd those tan little peaches turnin&ampapos; us onKeepin&ampapos; things hot all summer longIf I could go back in a second, I swearWell. I&ampapos;d still be growin&ampapos; up down thereAnd those tan little peaches turnin&ampapos; us onKeepin&ampapos; things hot all summer longIf I could go back in a second, I swearWell. I&ampapos;d still be growin&ampapos; up down thereYeah, lookin&ampapos; back now, man, it don&ampapos;t seem fairIf you didn&ampapos;t get to do your growin&ampapos; up down there