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Ain't No Saguaro in Texas

de The Reverend Horton Heat

It goes real fast
But it sure feels good,
It goes real fast
But it sure feels good,
It goes real fast
But it sure feels good,

It feels good.

Born a bastard child,
Nobody knows who's son,
On the old Chisholm Trail,
And he continues to run.

She's a 32 Ford,
Chopped five window Coup,
Chevrolet mill really,
Really stirs the soup.

Turn up the bass!
Turn up the treble!
Texas rock-a-billy rebel.
Turn up the bass!
Turn up the treble!
Texas rock-a-billy rebel.

It goes real fast
But it sure feels good,
It goes real fast
But it sure feels good,
It goes real fast
But it sure feels good,

It feels good.

When everyone said early on,
They had lost the fight,
Deep down inside they knew,
Knew they had the might.

Like Harold Dawson, Mouser King,
To many more too say,
Wide whitewall wheels gonna,
Gonna blow you away!

Turn up the bass!
Turn up the treble!
Texas rock-a-billy rebel.
Turn up the bass!
Turn up the treble!
Texas rock-a-billy rebel.

It goes real fast
But it sure feels good,
It goes real fast
But it sure feels good,
It goes real fast
But it sure feels good,

It feels good.

Feels good! Go!

It goes real fast
But it sure feels good,
It goes real fast
But it sure feels good,
It goes real fast
But it sure feels good,

It feels good.

When we fire that motor
It goes rata-tat-tat-tat,
Like a Texas guitar slinger,
Or a snare drum that is phat.

It is gray and it's red,
In memory of the dead,
Her builder Treadmill Vern,
Is sick in the head!

Turn up the bass!
Turn up the treble!
Texas rock-a-billy rebel.
Turn up the bass!
Turn up the treble!
Texas rock-a-billy rebel.

It goes real fast
But it sure feels good,
It goes real fast
But it sure feels good,
It goes real fast
But it sure feels good,
It feels good.

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