"Rockin' Rock and Roll" by Nancy Sinatra.
Picture this: It's 1966 and you lean your surfboard against the wall outside a dive bar in Reno and walk down the steps to the club. As you belly up to the Tiki bar you unzip your biker jacket halfway and brush your pompadour out of your eyes. You order something strong and your eyes scan the room. There are a few gangsters at a table by the bathroom and a few B list movie stars scattered about ( There's Gilligan!). You ogle the caged Go Go Dancers on either side of a stage as they dance The Monkey. Finally, your eyes lock on a shapely blonde chick singing a slightly off key masochistic melody about walking all over people she knew. Not one you'd take home to meet mom.
You catch her mascara laden eye and in that bonding moment she knows you're a rock & roll maniac. A guy who likes it fast and hard and she's gonna give it to you because she likes to see you hurt. She signals the orchestra and she breaks into this song:
You want to know, what color was that acid tab you took and why didn't you quarter it like he said?
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