1970 red Chevelle Fire-engine hot, I'm going to sell I'm gonna be rich, I'm gonna be a millionaire Deep-bucket seats, black-lined on top Rolling down
My man's so debonaire Filthy rich, feathers in his hair Taking off from where he stands Loves his girlfriend Drives around Tells me to sit in the middle
I wish my heart would burn I wish it up in flames I'm giving up the fight, my Lord Man come to take me away I'm letting go my bike I laid it down the
When it rains, I throw up my windows On a cold, dark day I run in the street I'm ok when the howling wind blows Yeah, it's alright with me When it's
My clock said one When he entered through the back door Easily, quietly How could I have known Heavily I slept while Stealthily he crept from room to
I won't be good anymore I'll only walk electrically I'll spit and curse and snarl of course Until I find you pity me Much laundry I will hang at you
like a watermelon looks like looks like looks like we've got a problem It felt like love when he pulled me near I was born in spring I was looking for a thrill
Too bad about you Too bad about you Too bad So tall and so smooth So wonderous cat So far from the top of your head to the ground If you picked me up
