| D | G | |
| Lights are bright on | Friday night |
| D | G | |
| Fall in small Texas | towns |
| D | G | |
| People train like | moths to flame |
| D | G | |
| And there ainât nobody | around |
| D | G | |
| Even the cops disregard the | shops |
| D | G | |
| And banks to hear the | band |
| D | G | |
| Play the alma mater for the | sheriffâs daughter |
| Emqueen of tbe bometownA | |
| Cause sheâs the | fans. |
| D | G | |
| Iâd seen it all when | I was small |
| D | G | |
| And I set it in my | mind |
| D | G | |
| If I grew up and | things tough |
| A | D | |
| Iâd | rob this small town | blind. |
| CHORUS |
| G | D | |
| Yeah Iâm | sackin a | small town |
| G | D | |
| Like a | blindside | blitz |
| G | D | |
| When they ainât | lookingâs when Iâm |
| G | D | |
| Gonna make my | hit. |
| G | D | |
| Itâll be | payday | Friday |
| G | D | |
| Iâm | gonna take it | all |
| G | D | |
| Sackin a | small town |
| G | A | D | |
| Man I | hate foot | ball. |
| Sure enough, I grew up |
| And things were less than swell |
| I made some plans with Uncle Sam |
| And he taught me real well |
| How to drive a truck and blow stuff up |
| Until he let me go |
| For raising heck and bouncing checks |
| At a county line liquor store. |
| And there ainât no work for a washed out jerk |
| With a mark against his name. |
| So I made new plans when I seen them stands |
| Where they play that damned old game. |
| CHORUS |
| Well the time was right that Friday night |
| It was a small town rivalry |
| There was no doubt theyâd all turn out |
| Yeah I knew right where theyâd be |
| The lights went down on that little town |
| And I parked at the bank and trust |
| The home team scored..I blew the door |
| Then I packed my truck. |
| They couldnât hear for the band and the cheers |
| They were smellin a victory |
| Hell itâs all the same whoever won that game |
| It was a big time score for me. |