Besedila: Mountain Goats, The. Jenny.

you roared into the driveway of our

southwestern ranchstyle house

on a new [motorcycle]

all yellow and black

fresh out of the showroom

our house faced west

so the big orange sun

positioned at your back

lit up your magnificent silhouhette

how much better, how much better could my life get?

nine hundred cubic centimeters of raw whining power

no outstanding warrants for my arrests

whoa, the pirate's life for me

I hopped on the back of the bike

wrapped my arms around you

I sank my face

into your hair

and then I inhaled

as deeply as I possibly could

you were sweet and delicious

as the warm desert air

and you pointed your headlamp toward the horizon

we were the one thing in the galaxy god didn't have his eyes on

nine hundred cc's of raw whining power

no outstanding warrants for my arrest

goddamn, the pirate's life for me