| Hot Rod Mama |
|---|
| Hot rod mama moving like a motor cycle devil in a race |
| Blown out my mind, I can’t keep up the pace |
| I’m selling all my midnight, still broke and living on the ground |
| My gone little mama cut out without a sound |
| With my greased-up levis |
| Baseball boots above my head |
| If it wasn’t such a tragedy |
| I might wish I was dead |
| She took my ice-cream mustang |
| And my purple coloured dodeville |
| She even took my panpipes and my elixir of life pill |
