Story Behind The Song

I moved out to San Francisco from Arkansas and survived the culture shock. Few of my friends can say the same thing. I wrote this song over a few beers, thinking about the friends that have come West only to find out that though the geography changed, they hadn't. One friend, after returning to Arkansas said, "I didn't know who I was back home. How the hell was I gonna figure that out out in California?"

Song Description

A young man grows restless on the farm and decides to head West. It is more than apparent that he is trying to leave his troubles behind. Fueled by CERTAIN SUBSTANCES (as Zappa would say), he flies through Texas and New Mexico dreaming about the ladies waiting for him. Once our hero arrives in LA, however, he realizes that he is no better equipped to handle the big city than he was back home. With his hair long and his boots worn down, he skips on his rent and heads back home with the realization that one is always tied to the place he was born.

Lyrics

A little Milwaukee beer, a little Mexican grass,
My baby keeps a-naggin' that I'm drivin' too fast.
The man at the bank wants to collect on his loan;
Another word from him and by morning I'm gone.

I'm gonna leave here when the corn gets tall,
Ain't nobody gonna miss me at all,
I said to Pa:

"I'm just too restless for rice, I'm just too cocky for corn.
I been tryin' to leave the farm since the day I was born.
I'm just too restless for rice, I'm just too cocky for corn,
Amarillo by tonight and Albuquerque by morn'."

A little hair of the dog, plenty gas in the tank,
And I got every shiny nickel that I had in the bank.
That stuff the trucker gave me kept me drivin' all night,
Muskogee in my mirror and Bakersfield in my sights.

Can't wait to meet the gals in Cali-forn-aye-ayy;
Whoever's drivin' that Chevrolet,
He's in my way.

I'm just too restless for rice, I'm just too cocky for corn,
I been tryin' to leave the farm since the day I was born.
I'm just too restless for rice, I'm just too cocky for corn,
I got my boot up on the pedal, got my fist on the horn.

The ladies like it when I say, "How ya'll?"
But when I dial up their digits they ain't home when I call.
36-24-33, I bet there's one out there just waitin' for me.
I got to see.

Los Angeles ain't nearly what I thought it would be:
Don't come to Cal without a pile of dough-re-mi.
I never thought I'd turn into a hippy this year,
But only movie stars can pay to get their hair cut out here.

The rent is due and my mind is blown.
Damn, it's more than what I owe on that loan.
I'm goin' home.

I'm just too restless for rice, I'm just too cocky for corn,
But my wallets lookin' empty, my Nocona's are worn.
I'm just too restless for rice, I'm just too cocky for corn,
but hate it all or love it, it's the place I was born.