Written by B. Setzer Switchblade 327 Lit cigarette in his hand Steel-toed boots on the accelerator Oil leakin' outta the pan Switchblade, three two-barrels Gettin' there as fast as he can All juiced up like a hot carburetor Spittin' gas onto the fan Blacktop burnout, Saturday night Try to catch him if you can Switchblade 327 Switchblade, seven come eleven Switchblade, he's all right When he gets drunk he fights all night Switchblade 327 Pullin' way ahead of the pack Chop top deuce, Saturday night Flames shootin' outta the back Switchblade, don't cut him off He won't cut you no slack He'll cut you to ribbons if you come to town He'll carve his name in your back Blacktop burnout, Saturday night Try to catch him if you can Switchblade 327 Switchblade, seven come eleven Switchblade, he's all right When he gets drunk he fights all night Switchblade 327 Someone was calling his name All he could hear was his engine And the sound of the pouring down rain Switchblade 327 Ran 125 down the lane But someone had cut both his fuel lines And the '32 burst into flames Blacktop burnout, Saturday night Try to catch him if you can Switchblade 327 Switchblade, seven come eleven Switchblade, he's all right When he gets drunk he fights all night (repeat)