floorboard blues

Check under his floorboard, mama
I dont trust his silly grin
Hes got a beat up rambler,
Nebraska plates
I aint gettin in
I dont like the way his pinky ring
Picks up the dashboard light
Or his short little piggy fingers
Or the way his belt is cinched too tight
Check under his floorboard, mama
I dont like his suggestive tone
The way his words drip from his mouth
As he asks, 'Can I take you home?'
I dont care how many miles
I gotI think
Id rather walk them alone
Than to sit in the back seat
As his eyes in the mirror
Reduce me to flesh and bone
Check under his floorboard, mama
Cause that razors not just a threat to me
Hell be slicin tiny crescents from your heart
Without layin a sweaty palm on your cheek
Dont accuse me of runnin scared
Listen to what
Im sayin
Its a ****** up ol world but this ol girl
Well, she aint givin in