Mott The Hoople Born Late '58
Baby took me out last night Got a little cadillac bite. Shook me about - inside out Didn't get home 'till light. She's a grower, a goer - you gotta get to know her No chooser, a cruiser - you turn around she'll lose you Burned out as the light turned green Smoke-screened off her rail. He didn't see me comin' but he shoulda saw me runnin' Faster than the U.S. mail. She's a speeder, a leader You're really gotta meet her You see her, she thrills you, you look at her she'll kill you. Listen, fella, baby don't you sell her Don't you try and steal her away Hush, man logs in her dam Think you better fade away Detonator, jail-baiter - a radar radiator She'll annoy ya, destroy ya - she'll bring ya down in fire Create her, mistreat her - no use tryin' to beat her Admit it, she's greater, shame you weren't born later.
