Hot Rod Mama

Hot rod mama moving like a motor cycle devil in a race 
Blown out my mind, I can't keep up the pace 
I'm selling all my midnight, still broke and living on the ground 
My gone little mama cut out without a sound 

With my greased-up levis, 
baseball boots above my head 
If it wasn't such a tragedy 
I might wish I was dead 

She took my ice-cream mustang 
and my purple coloured dodeville 
She even took my panpipes and my elixir of life pill