Let's Kill Saturday Night

(Robbie Fulks)
 A dollar I make is a buck I owe
 And a forty-hour week leaves ten to blow
 But every game in this town is nickel-and-dime
 When the sun goes down it feels like the last time
 Down the main drag we ride with our engines roaring
 If there's a fire inside, it's the one thing going
 I got a Mustang loaded
 I got a wrong to right
 I got a little red bullet
 Let's kill Saturday night
 Knock it out of it's misery
 Nail that coffin tight
 High living, it's history
 Let's kill Saturday night
 The little man's lot is a prince's life
 A prince with a lousy job, a prince with a working wife
 Something in the big frame moved, it never was so hard
 To keep a twenty-inch tube and a fenced in yard
 But give me one night with the moon high and the radio pounding
 And brother, this town's gonna go down kicking and shouting
 CHORUS