(B. Setzer, 1998)  Switchblade 327  Lit cigarette in his hand  Steel-toed boots on the accelerator  Oil leakin' outta the pan.  Switchblade, three 2-barrels  Gettin' there as fast as he can  All juiced up like a hot carburetor  Spittin' gas onto the fan  Blacktop burnout, Saturday night  Try and catch him if you can  Switchblade 327  Switchblade, seven come eleven  Switchblade, he's all right  When he get's drunk he fights all night  Switchblade 327  Pullin' way ahead of the pack  Chop top deuce, Saturday night  Flames shootin' outta the back  Switchblade, don't cut him off  He won't cut you no slack  He'll cut you to ribbons if you come to town  He'll carve out his name in your back  Blacktop burnout, Saturday night  Try and catch him if you can  Switchblade 327  Switchblade, seven come eleven  Switchblade, he's all right  When he get's drunk he fights all night  Switchblade 327  Someone was calling his name  All he could hear was his engine  And the sound of the pouring down rain  Switchblade 327  Ran 125 down the lane  But someone cut both his fuel lines  And the '32 burst into flames  Blacktop burnout, Saturday night  Try and catch him if you can  Switchblade 327  Switchblade, seven come eleven  Switchblade, he's all right  When he get's drunk he fights all night