This Is Sally Hatchet

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 Pretty rattled by the way that she Empties a few clips out Do I have a choice now? "Point that thing away from me, Lady!"