Angel in My Pocket

I drive a souped-up sickle

I lead a tough life

I get the women when I whistle

I keep up at night

I lost my job down at the station

But I don't kill 'em all

I got a buffalo nickel and a rabbit foot

Looking for some good luck

Well I'm all hillbilly

From my mullet to my boots

So don't you mess around with me

I got a screw loose

So when the devil's talking to me

And I feel I can't stop him

I call the angel in my pocket

'Cause I know she's gonna rock it

Yeah the skinny little angel was attacked by a crow

She's got a red hot paper with a smooth flow

When she slides her jimmy like a lovesick duck

She leaves me grinning like a monkey on a coconut truck

So when the demons press on through me

And the blues come knocking

I call the angel in my pocket

'Cause I know she's gonna rock it

She's gonna rock it

(Yeah, yeah, yeah, she's gonna rock it)

(She's gonna...)

(She gonna—come on)

So when the people treat me crudely

I shut my door and I lock it

I call the angel in my pocket

'Cause I know she's gonna rock it

I call the angel in my pocket

'Cause I know she's gonna rock it

I call the angel in my pocket

'Cause I know she's gonna rock it

She's gonna rock it

She gonna rock it

She gonna rock it