White Boys

Lucky Mud
Mike McKinney


This song is about growing up in Florida before the Civil Rights struggle changed the Deep South. And make no mistake, Florida was, and is a part of the Deep South. It's about growing up bored, restless and more than a little dangerous. It's the story, too, of what happened to young high school girls who lost their way, and what they and the boys around them did on moonlit nights in the orange groves.


Under a yellow moon, over the orange grove Some white boys played a game Back when the Sunshine State was still segregated And the 'good old boys' wanted it to stay that way But the Vietnam War, and Brown vs. the Board of Education Changed everything And on that night, some white boys Played a strange and dangerous game And the young girls sat on the hoods of their cars And they watched them race on by In big Chevys and Fords And they were drinking Schlitz by the quart And they were bored out of their minds If mommies and daddies knew what their children do In the light of a yellow moon They'd lock them away 'til their dying day In their safe, familiar rooms It was back in the time when those young girls Would simply disappear Sometime in their Junior or Senior year And they'd come back different And they'd come back changed In another strange and dangerous game Because 'good girls' didn't get pregnant then Without a ring on their finger And a man's last name Then all the good people would close their eyes And they'd all agree on the same damned lie Saying, 'she just went to live with her Uncle John and Aunt Marie down in Boca Raton And they'd fold their arms and make a wall 'Cause all the children were good Back in the Good Old Days But in the orange grove on that moonlit night As girls learned to flirt And all the boys were fighting Driving ninety miles an hour without headlights Through the orange trees in the steamy night We all could've died so easily In a tangle of bumpers and a flame so bright Under the quiet sky But most of us lived to go to war Or get a job and settle down To live our lives and raise our children In that mean and dying town And we all learned to tell a lie To our own children about our lives And what we did on moonlit nights Back in the Good Old Days But girls will be girls And boys will be boys They'll raise some hell and They'll make some noise They'll burn time like it was gasoline In the world we'll leave behind And they'll make love beneath that moon Learn too late and die too soon And watch their children slip away Just like the Good Old Days When the Sunshine State was still segregated And white boys played a game

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