Highway Gardens

Dance with me like the 1950’s Be close to me like a sweat-filled t-shirt At Highway Gardens in the 1950’s Dance with me like the 1950’s Like a knife in the boot in a Friday rumble Be close to me Be close to me Be close to me Hotter than a son of a bitch Hotter than a son of a bitch I never got to taste your kiss I bet it is beautiful Lay next to me like a coffin that meets the dirt Lay next to me as they lower us to the dirt It’s like that BP Fallon song They say time is an accordion Well it’s true I’m simply glad that you’re here Hotter than a son of a bitch Hotter than a son of a bitch I never locked lips with death but I bet it’d be Hotter than a son of a bitch Hotter than a son of a bitch I never locked lips with you, I bet it’d be Beautiful Beautiful Christ, she's beautiful Hotter than a son of a bitch Hotter than a son of a bitch I never locked lips with death but I bet it’d be Hotter than a son of a bitch Hotter than a son of a bitch I never locked lips with you, I bet it’d be Beautiful Beautiful Christ, she's beautiful Beautiful Beautiful Christ, she's beautiful