Talk to a state trooper like like that big dope sounded in his address, and they'll be giving you a field sobriety test in no time.

It's obvious unless you're too busy licking shoes to hear and see it.
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She was standin' alone over by the juke box, like she'd something to sell.
I said "baby, what's the goin' price?" She told me to go to hell.

Bon Scott - Shot Down in Flames