| We’re on fire, I think
|
| So stop, drop and roll one
|
| Takes one to grow one
|
| We’re one of a kind
|
| We’re right on the brink
|
| Burned out like the prom queen
|
| We’re all mirrors and smoke rings
|
| So stop, drop and roll one
|
| I don’t really care how this phony ass fairytale ends
|
| I just hope that we’re leaving this honky tonk covered in men
|
| Sometimes the loud ones are loners
|
| Sometimes the rockers are stoners
|
| One’s got the matches, one’s got the lashes
|
| One’s running her mouth again
|
| We’re on fire, I think
|
| So stop, drop and roll one
|
| Takes one to grow one
|
| We’re one of a kind
|
| We’re right on the brink
|
| Burned out like the prom queen
|
| It’s all mirrors and smoke rings
|
| So stop, drop and roll one
|
| Get this thing off of me; |
| where in the hell is my bra?
|
| This hurts a lot more than the last time we did Mardi Gras
|
| Sometimes the drifters are daisies
|
| Sometimes the sane ones are crazies
|
| One’s got the Tylenol, one’s got the adderall
|
| One’s got a drink in her hand
|
| We’re on fire, I think
|
| So stop, drop and roll one
|
| Takes one to grow one
|
| We’re one of a kind
|
| Yeah, we’re right on the brink
|
| Burned out like the prom queen
|
| It’s all mirrors and smoke rings
|
| So stop, drop and roll one |