I was just sittin’ on the back porch

and, all pardons if I sound coarse

‘cause you may be hot as a blowtorch

but baby where’s the scorch?

   Where’s the smoke?

Where’s the fire?

Where the hell is the lighter?

   Crash and burn learn the score

if you gotta be, you know,

like Tipper Gore

Yea I’m down to the apple core

get your feet to the floor