Which one's the birthday boy? (She said) I ain't got all night What'd your momma name you? You can call me what you like Every skin is a mystery Gotta make it hard somehow Sit your narrow a** down, hotshot I'll solve yours right now Got a girlfriend, don't you, boy? Nervous hands can't lie Married men don't ask how much Single ones ain't buying One day you've got everything Next day it's all broke Let Miss Trixie sit up front Let her wipe your nose Working for the money like you got eight hands Flat on your back under a mean old man Just thinking happy thoughts and breathing deep Between your momma's drive and daddy's belt It don't take smarts to learn to tune out what hurts more than helps The pretty girls from the smallest towns Get remembered like storms and droughts That old men talk about for years to come I guess that's why they give us names So a few old men can say They saw us rain when we were young Which one's the birthday boy? (She said) I ain't got all night What'd your momma name you? You can call me what you like