Let me tell you 'bout Wayne and his deals of cocaine Holding for a friend till the band do well Then the D.E.A. locked him away
Clang clang, go the jail guitar doors Bang bang, go the boots on the floor Cry cry, for your lonely mother's son Clang clang, go the jail guitar doors
An' I'll tell you 'bout Pete, didn't want no fame "Well there's something wrong, it'll be good for you, son" And so they certified him insane
And then there's Keith, waiting for trial Twenty-five thousand bail If he goes down you won't hear his sound But his friends carry on anyway Fifty four/forty six was my number Right now someone else has that number