Текст: John Denver. Blow Up Your Tv.

She was a level-headed dancer on the road to alcohol
I was just a soldier on my way to Montreal

Well, she pressed her chest against me
About the time the jukebox broke
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

I sat there at the table and I acted real naive
Cause I knew that topless lady, she had something up her sleeve
She danced around the room awhile and she did the hoochy cooch
Yea sing a song all night long tellin' 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

But I was young and hungry and about to leave that place
Just as I was going 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 day we've been livin' our way
Here is the reason why

We blew up the TV, threw away the paper
Went to the country, built us a home

Had a lotta children, fed 'em on peaches
They all found Jesus on their own