Born the daughter of a comedian
Middle of the eighties
Someone turn that awful mouth-breathing down
Or else
Sally Hatchet lives in a hole in the ground
The longer it keeps raining
The more she has to struggle to maintain a wonderful time
Oh yeah
Go on and laugh it up without me
I've got smoke in my lungs
And a past life in the trunk
Did he rattle by the way that she empties a few clips out
Do I have a choice now
Point that thing away from me

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