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