| As she kissed me goodbye she kicked my birddog
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| Rolled a stick of dynamite under my pickup
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| Released the breaks on my dear old mother’s wheel chair
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| Pushed it down the hill into the path of a speeding semi-truck
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| Then she shot the propane tank with my deer rifle
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| Turned our love nest into one big pile o' wood
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| I hate to be a pessimist but I sense something in her kiss
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| And I’m afraid this time she might be gone for good
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| As she backed out of the drive she hit my Harley
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| Drug it underneath her car down to the street
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| Took a baseball bat to my «See Rock City» mailbox
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| Hollered something at me that I can’t repeat
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| Then she whistled for our neighbor and she come a' runnin'
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| And they drove off laughin' through our neighborhood
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| I know they say that love is blind but I think she’s givin' me a sign
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| And I believe this time she might be gone for good
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| Yes, I’m afraid this time she might be gone for good
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| No… Wait! |
| I was wrong… She’s coming back…
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| Hey baby…
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| Huh… What’s this?.. A new bowling ball? |
| With a sparkler in it?.. Hey wait…
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| Where ya goin'?..
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| Well, well don’t run off again… Hey, Thelma!!!
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| You and Louise come back here, ya hear! |
| Wait a minute…
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| This ain’t no bowlin' ball… Why, it’s a (BLAM!)
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| This time, she might be gone for good… Timber! |
| (Plop!) |