Born Late '58 by Mott the Hoople
Baby took me out last night
Got a little cadillac bite.
Shook me about - inside out
Didn't get home 'till light.
She's a grower, a goer - you gotta get to know her
No chooser, a cruiser - you turn around she'll lose you
Burned out as the light turned green
Smoke-screened off her rail.
He didn't see me comin' but he shoulda saw me runnin'
Faster than the U.S. mail.
She's a speeder, a leader
You're really gotta meet her
You see her, she thrills you, you look at her she'll kill you.
Listen, fella, baby don't you sell her
Don't you try and steal her away
Hush, man logs in her dam
Think you better fade away
Detonator, jail-baiter - a radar radiator
She'll annoy ya, destroy ya - she'll bring ya down in fire
Create her, mistreat her - no use tryin' to beat her
Admit it, she's greater, shame you weren't born later.