Every 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 nickle and dime,   And when the sun goes down, it feels like the last time.   Down on the main drag we ride, the engine's open.   If there's a fire inside, that's the one thing goin.       I've got the Mustang loaded,   I've got a wrong to right.   I got a little red bullet,   Let's kill Saturday night.   Knock it out of it's misery,   Nail that coffin tight.   High livin', that's history:   Let's kill Saturday night.       Well, the little man's lot is a prince's life:   A prince with the lousy job; a prince with a workin' 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 poundin',   An' brother this town is gonna go down a kickin' and shoutin',       I've got the Mustang loaded,   I've got a wrong to right.   I got a little red bullet,   Let's kill Saturday night.   Knock it out of it's misery,   Nail that coffin tight.   High livin', that's history:   Let's kill Saturday night.   Hey.       I got the Mustang loaded,   I've got a wrong to right.   I got a little red bullet,   Let's kill Saturday night.   Knock it out of it's misery,   Nail that coffin tight.   High livin', that's history:   Let's kill Saturday night.       Let's kill Saturday night.