Well, I left my motel room, down at the Starkville Motel,
The town had gone to sleep and I was feelin´ fairly well.
I strolled along the sidewalk ´neath the sweet magnolia trees;

I was whistlin´, pickin´ flowers, swayin´ in the southern breeze.
I found myself surrounded; one policeman said: "That´s him.
Come along, wild flower child. Don´t you know that it´s two a.m."

They´re bound to get you.
´Cause they got a curfew.
And you go to the Starkville City jail.

Well, they threw me in the car and started driving into town;
I said: "What the hell did I do?" He said: "Shut up and sit down."

Well, they emptied out my pockets, took my pills and guitar picks.

I said: "Wait, my name is..." "Awe shut up." Well, I sure was in a fix.

The sergeant put me in a cell, then he went home for the night;
I said: "Come back here, you so and so; I ain´t bein´ treated right."

Well, they´re bound to get you, cause they got a curfew,
And you go to the Starkville City Jail.

I started pacin´ back and forth, and now and then I´d yell,
And kick my forty dollar shoes against the steel floor of my cell.
I´d walk awhile and kick awhile, and all night nobody came.

Then I sadly remembered that they didn´t even take my name.
At 8 a.m. they let me out. I said: "Gimme them things of mine!"
They gave me a sneer and a guitar pick, and a yellow dandelion.

They´re bound to get you, ´cause they got a curfew,
And you go to the Starkville City Jail.