Sometimes she runs sometimes she don't more than once she let me on the side of the road The older she gets the slower we go but there ain't nothin' wrong with the radio She needs a carburetor a set of plug wires She's ridden me around on four bald tires The wipers don't work and the horn don't blow But there ain't nothing wrong with the radio I've got sixteen speakers crossing my back dash Little bobbing dog watching every body pass Dual antennas whippin' in the wind
