When you hang around here
I roll in second gear
Not pushing too fast
Caught in the wind
Days roll by
Into weeks and miles
When your hanging ’round
Baby, let’s roll around
And my parking brake
Is the great escape
City lights and the vista
With music on easy beats
Butter me on Sunday
Split my hands upon the door,
Call the lady Monday
At a quarter after four.
Lunnegan Lunnegan Lunnegan Sat,
Place your bets here and I’ll make you a stack.
Gone is my friend, night after Tuesday.
Biscuits and rawhide are left in the mud.
Every missed Friday
Is a Wednesday fallen flat.
For opening the windows
Comes Thursday tru-ra-loo lore.