instrumental
My hair might be a little too long for your taste, my friend My car might cost a little less then that suit your wearing I'm glad you stumbled in here
Lord it's the same old tune, fiddle and guitar Where do we take it from here? Rhinestone suits and new shiny cars It's been the same way for years We
, like that Y'all ain't gotta go home but ya gotta get the hell up outta here Three o'clock we in the hotel lobby After party in my penthouse suite Lookin' for
find the dirtiest van we can, a rolling home for you and me! I'm enchante with the A & R department They say I'll go far but don't play guitar Good heavens
the dirtiest van we can, a rolling home for you and me! I'm enchante with the A & R department They say I'll go far but don't play guitar Good heavens
groovy speak out the head, provided for the hardrocks Here to resurrect the ghetto beats for the blocks You can dig the styles cause the styles are for
Lord, it's the same old thing Fiddle and guitar Where do we take it from here? Rhinestone suits new shiny car Well, It's been the same way for years It
ya, like that Y'all ain't gotta go home But ya gotta get the hell up outta here 3 o'clock we in the hotel lobby After party in my penthouse suite Lookin' for
you still be my friend? No matter how tough it get, no matter whatever matter Are you gon' still have my back like a chiropractor Through sickness, through health, for better, for
-heeled boys If I gave you everything that I owned And asked for nothing in return Would you do the same for me as I would for you? Or take me for a
the attic cold She had to press her nose on the refectory wall They served steamed puddings, she went without She had to pose for life for all the scholars
suits and ties. Some are driving fancy cars. Chorus: MA© fA©iners at the door Politics, you know the score. Mawlya mungers, shake my hand Saying a??sorry for
waiting list But I'm gonna give it everything I've got to give Oh daddy, when you gonna be a big star? I got the suit and a pink guitar Oh daddy, when
almost was Guitar town, I bought this old Epi-phone Started stringin' chords and words into songs I've been puttin' in time on Sixteenth Avenue Pourin' out my heart for
blues And who got who by the short hairs Standing there in their high dollar suits Looking down at my tattered old jeans and boots And this weathered guitar
our box for you, we say, Well, I ain't in no box. Don't try to put me in one. I'm going to play a little bit of guitar with this one, but I might stop
suit-wearing corporate middle manager Making $90,000 a year he keeps his wife knee-deep in pearls Seems he pulled it together and should be sitting pretty for
