He winked and asked if I'd like a ride
I smiled right back and climbed inside
Seats of leather, scoop of chrome
He said, "Where to?" "Anywhere but home."
Blaring Led Zepplin as we drove to the docks
My long hair blowing out the T-tops
Ruby-eyed silver skull on the shifter
I said, "I think we'll get along fine, Mister."
Chorus: x 2
Jet black
Four speed
Chevette
Curvy fenders glinting in the sun
Catching the attention of everyone
Mag wheels hugging the road
I can't wait to get you alone
I leaned in and whispered this gets me hot
He found a private place to stop
And as he spread a blanket on the sand
I strode off, keys in hand