| I got a woman who’s wild as Rome
|
| She likes bein' naked and gazed upon
|
| She crosses a bridge, she sets it on fire
|
| She lands like a bird on a telephone wire
|
| I’m gonna holler and I’m gonna scream
|
| I’m gonna get me some mescaline
|
| And then I’m gonna rhyme that with 'gasoline'
|
| It’s a drunken poet’s dream
|
| There’s some money on the table and a pistol on the floor
|
| A few paperback books by Louis L’Amour
|
| Whisky bottles are scattered like last night’s clothes
|
| With cigarettes and papers and Oreos
|
| My harmonica’s got a busted reed
|
| My lips are chapped and about to bleed
|
| She says that’s nothing, when she was a kid
|
| She danced with the Dead at the pyramids
|
| I’m gonna hollar and I’m gonna scream
|
| I’m gonna get me some mescaline
|
| Then I’m gonna rhyme that with gasoline
|
| It’s a drunken poet’s dream
|
| Now I’ll never pay back my student loan
|
| Smelling like Coors and cheap cologne
|
| She tells me not to worry about Judgment Day
|
| She says dyin' to get into heaven’s just not our way
|
| I’m gonna hollar and I’m gonna scream
|
| I’m gonna get me some mescaline
|
| Then I’m gonna rhyme that with gasoline
|
| It’s a drunken poet’s dream
|
| I got a woman who’s wild as Rome
|
| She likes bein' naked and gazed upon |