Full tilt sprint with the wind at my back
Booty bumping lines off my Daddy's 8-track
Slick silver tongue pierce trailer park trash
Baby got a rash from my gnarly porn-stache.
Dead rabbits, 8-balls and B-52s
My my my my my Boogie shoes
Vinnie Barbarino was Urban Cowboy riding
Fonzie and Chachi had to go into hiding
Clock struck 1990 and Nirvana set us straight
my mullet caught on fire not a moment too late.
Now we laugh at douche-bags and posers on steroids
until Christmas when mom pulls out the family Polaroid's
******
In retrospect the Toads are writing about living in another time. I chose a rhyme scheme to match the decade.
