Lyrics
Sandy likes to go
Likes to take me slow
Put my hammer down
Hit the virgin town
Take a shot or two
Rye and Cordon Bleau
Roll my car and then
Do it all again
Like the night before
When I swore no more
Walked right through her door
Fell across her floor
And the Cuervo Gold
Sandy's got me sold
Throws it back and then
Sandy slams it once again.
Five shots in line, that's gotta be a bad sign.
Four more make nine, that's gotta be a bad sign.
On the greasy street
With my leaden feet
Sandy hits the rail
Makes my engine wail
Past a cop or two
Smoking black gumshoe
Pop the top and flee
Another shot for me
Till my tank runs dry
And thy doom is nigh
Slap the irons on
See the light of dawn
Twenty friends of mine
Front to back in line
And a transvestite
Smile and then turn to the right.
Five shots in line, that's gotta be a bad sign.
Four years plus nine, that's gotta be a bad sign.
