Take this rifle, kid. Gimme that guitar.
Straight through the heart of them righteous uprights, drop kick me Jesus through the goal posts of life.
Pour me another tequila, I'm going to put on your red satin dress. You put on my clothes.
Your pot belly, I'd give that a 10 for size.
Songwriters are still the brightest people in any room.
I flashed her a smile, but she didn't even look at me. So for brains and good judgment, I'd give her a three.