Let's Kill Saturday Night
Every dollar I make is a buck I owe,
And a forty hour week leaves ten to blow.
But every game in this town is just a nickle and dime,
And when the sun goes down, it feels like the last time.
Down on the main drag we ride, the engine's open.
If there's a fire inside, that's the one thing goin.
I've got the Mustang loaded,
I've got a wrong to right.
I got a little red bullet,
Let's kill Saturday night.
Knock it out of it's misery,
Nail that coffin tight.
High livin', that's history:
Let's kill Saturday night.
Well, the little man's lot is a prince's life:
A prince with the lousy job; a prince with a workin' wife.
Something in the big frame moved, it never was so hard,
To keep a twenty-inch tube and a fenced-in yard.
But give me one night with the moon high and the radio poundin',
An' brother this town is gonna go down a kickin' and shoutin',
I've got the Mustang loaded,
I've got a wrong to right.
I got a little red bullet,
Let's kill Saturday night.
Knock it out of it's misery,
Nail that coffin tight.
High livin', that's history:
Let's kill Saturday night.
Hey.
I got the Mustang loaded,
I've got a wrong to right.
I got a little red bullet,
Let's kill Saturday night.
Knock it out of it's misery,
Nail that coffin tight.
High livin', that's history:
Let's kill Saturday night.
Let's kill Saturday night.
compositores: Robbie Fulks
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