Another stupid Saturday, the conversation starts to slur. And some sasquatch wookie-boner spilled his Mad Dog down my shirt. There's a party-thumpin', booty-humpin' music-wagon in my head.
I was aching, breaking down. The bluest guy, the blues had found. You came, you gave me Butter Pecan. You let me ramble on and on. . When we walked down the street.