Оригинален текст
Strange Woman . . .
Strange Bed . . .
Thors hammer poundin in my head
Six straight double shots of high-grade single malt
And my mouth is tastin dryer than table salt (a popcorn fart)
Yeah, but I know what Im doin . . .
Im on the road to ruin
Monday mornin . . .
Last Friday night . . .
Well I had the feelin everything was alright
Here I am in trouble with the love of my life
Hopin she dont cut me with no butcher knife
I got brownie points a-cruin . . .
Im on the road to ruin
Piano solo
Sun blindin . . .
Teeth grindin . . .
Ears burnin . . .
Stomach turnin . . .
Well, Summers commin and the winters gone
Here I am still sleepin with my blue jeans on
Well I had it goin till I lost my job
Now Im out here casin out some joint to rob
Babys needin shooin . . .
Im on the road to ruin
Guitar solo
Sirens blarin . . .
Neighbors starin . . .
Judges gavel . . .
Well, I come unraveled . . .
Well, Ive been rollin downhill since I was ten
My Les Paul livins going to do me in
I cant get this roller-coaster rifle to a stop
Cause when I hit the bottom Im right back on top
Big ideas a-brewin . . .
Well Im on the road to ruin