Well a dollar I make Is a buck I owe And a forty-hour week Leaves ten to blow But every game in this town Is just a nickel-and-dime And when the sun goes down It feels like the last time So down the main drag we ride with the engines open If there's a fire inside, it's the one thing going I've got the Mustang loaded I've got a wrong to right I've got a little red bullet Let's kill Saturday night. Knock it out of its misery Nail that coffin tight High living that's history Let's kill Saturday night. Well the little man's lot Is a prince's life A prince with a lousy job A prince with a working wife Something in the big frame's moved Oh, it never was so hard To keep a twenty inch tube And a fenced-in yard But give me one night with the moon high and the radio pounding And, brother, this town's gonna go down kicking and shouting. I've got the Mustang loaded I've got a wrong to right I've got a little red bullet Let's kill Saturday night. Knock it out of its misery Nail that coffin tight High living that's history Let's kill Saturday night.