(Robbie Fulks)     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 nickel-and-dime  When the sun goes down it feels like the last time  Down the main drag we ride with our engines roaring  If there's a fire inside, it's the one thing going  I got a Mustang loaded  I got a wrong to right  I got a little red bullet  Let's kill Saturday night  Knock it out of its misery  Nail that coffin tight  High living, it's history  Let's kill Saturday night  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 moved, 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  CHORUS