Lyrics:

(Tom Johnston John Hartman Tiran Porter Michael Hossack) I was ridin' down that highway Silver Harley by my side When I thought I saw my lady She was headed for the Berkely hill Pistol on her hip in case she needed a thrill I don't believe it, don't believe a word I don't believe it, don't believe a word I said, come on with me, baby Don't you want to ride with me She put her hand into her bag, now Pulled out a half pint of red eye sauce Sneakin' 'round the corner, drinkin' whiskey from a jar I don't believe it, don't believe a word I don't believe it, don't believe a word