Lyrics:
Which one's the birthday boy? She said, "I ain't got all night" What'd your momma name you? You can call me what you like Every skin in history Gotta make it hard somehow Sit your narrow ass down, hotshot I'll solve yours right now Got a girlfriend, don't you, boy? Nervous hands can't lie Married men don't ask how much Single ones ain't buy One day you've got everything Next day it's all broke Let this Trixie sit up front Let her wipe your nose Working for the money like you got eight hands Flat on your back under a mean old man Just thinking happy thoughts, breathing in Between your momma's drive and daddy's belt It don't take smarts to learn to tune out what hurts more than helps Pretty girls from the smallest towns Can't remember life's storms and droughts That old men talk about for years to come I guess that's why they give us back So few old man can say They saw us when we were young Which one's the birthday boy? She said, "I ain't got all night" What'd your momma name you? You can call me what you like