Saturday - White Reaper

Thank you much for calling me

But my hand’s already trembling

I’m just trying to politely

Ask you to excuse my misbehavior

I brought too many drinks with me

And a ten ton bucket of gasoline

But I’m dressed for the occasion

So I’m staying till it’s done or till I’m thrown

And I don’t think people here mess around

They’re saying we both need to get outta here

Oh, and I know it’s gotta be on the count of four

Really do got to go

Oh, these old stares have turned on me

And my boots untied and I’ve clipped my wings

I’m just tryin' to arrive in such a manner

So as not to look alone

Oh, well, I do

And I don’t think people here mess around

They’re saying we both need to get outta here

Oh, and I know it’s gotta be on the count of four

Really do got to go

Don’t get caught up in holding on

If you can’t let go