Baby won’t you pack up your stuff
Baby won’t you pack up your stuff
’Cause this house feels the way a rowboat feels when all the water’s rough

Baby won’t you pack up your stuff
Gun-racks on a pickup truck
The crushed aluminum, the dirty magazines, just pack ’em up

Cause I’ve been thinking about my friend from Georgia
How she left her husband when he broke her arm one night
She drove out west till she hit California
But she sees his violence in the eyes of her four-year-old

So baby won’t you pack up your stuff
The time is right for giving up
I’m tired of waiting, sick anticipating, think I’ve had enough

My heart watches from a distant corner
It’s been living separate for about a year or more You can’t believe that you don’t mean more to me
But you’re not the man for me, you tear right through me

Baby won’t you pack up your stuff
For way too long I’ve pushed my luck
I need to find a man a little kinder, one who’s not so rough
I’m tired of telling you, there’s nothing you can do
You’ve done enough