Birthday Boy - Drive-By Truckers

«Which one’s the birthday boy?»

She said, «I ain’t got all night

What’d your momma name you?

You can call me what you like

Every skinny mystery

Gotta make it hard somehow

Sit your narrow ass down, hotshot

I’ll solve yours right now»

Got a girlfriend, don’t you, boy?

Nervous hands can’t lie

Married men don’t ask how much

Single ones ain’t buying

One day, you’ve got everything

Next day, it’s all broke

Let Miss Trixie sit up front

Let her wipe your nose

Working for the money like you got eight hands

Flat on your back under a mean old man

Just thinking happy thoughts and breathing deep

Between your mama’s drive and daddy’s belt

It don’t take smarts to learn to tune out what hurts more than helps

The pretty girls from the smallest towns

Get remembered like storms and droughts

That old men talk about for years to come

I guess that’s why they give us names

So a few old men can say

They saw us rain when we were young

«Which one’s the birthday boy?»

She said, «I ain’t got all night

What’d your momma name you?

You can call me what you like»