Cruisin’ down the street—plenty of room,
peelin’ out, tires squealin’ like a loon.
In days of old, you’d have a carburetor,
But fuel injection today works much better
This is the place I want to be, dead ahead
movin’ down a boundless avenue,
viewin’ chicks you hope are wantin’ you.

You had some drink before your odyssey;
in old days, this would be no oddity.
Get a little wasted and hit the street for
cruisin’ downtown, underneath the moon.
Reekin’ of that alcohol, your spume,
foam, foam, foam, foam.

If you’re plastered, off the road you should stay,
’cause now the drunken way’s viewed as outré.
Court might be inclined to put you away,
’cause the judge vexed will be
you acted recklessly.

Boozin’ do not do before you cruise;
keepin’ sober will be mean better news.
Old Crow, no, no!

Cruising:
Get drunk, you’re sunk.