There were twenty, maybe twenty-five of us, Drivin' out to California in a bus, We were looking for a good time, And a radio station we could trust Suddenly we heard an angry thud, And our mighty chariot turned into a dud, We were stopped there in our tracks, man, Adjacent to some cows chewing their cud Lord, please send some mercy down to me, (50 miles south of Bowling Green) This will clearly never be my scene, (Why does every city start with "C"?) There's only one sure thing that I know: I've got to get out of Ohio! Till then I'll never feel your love They say, that what you give is what you're gonna get, It's no wonder everything's gone to shit, Because they've given us John Boehner, And you better believe, they givin' us Jean Schmidt! And the floodgates of Hell have opened wide, It's a bad idea, all politics aside, To go and roll out Joe the Plumber, Just to make sure our minds get properly fried Lord, be merciful and let me die, (15 miles south of Lodi) Round on both ends and the middle's high, (What's so great about a buckeye?) Pulled by its riptide and undertow, There's no escaping from Ohio, I'll never get to feel your love Hey! The walls, they are closing in, But I'm just inside of Michigan, The only way that I'll attain ya, Is if I get over to Pennsylvania, Except for GBV and Devo, Nothing seems to redeem Ohio, It is the state that killed my love Hey! Don't you want to come with me Hey! And make a break for Kentucky? Hey! I still got something to put in ya, Hey! But we'll have to go to West Virginia, And I've heard great things about Indiana, too