I'm not singing about April showers
I'm not singing about the rain
They're going to stick my name in the papers
I want to sing about ball and chains
And ride the mystery train
I wrote the horror of John Paul Getty
You're going to limp down to that scene
You're going to trip and miss that seat
You sucker aren't safe sucker
I'm going to set my place in the mountains
I'm going to wear it out of phase
I want to sing about the kinds of people
Some of us think and some of us pray
You're going to trip and miss that seat
You're going to trip and miss that seat
We're going to make you eat that meat
Mensch is going to suffer
We all are going to suffer
The people here are going to suffer
The whole damn place will suffer
Whilst you just reap that fuck up
Break, break, break, break, sucker
You suffer sucker, sucker, sucker More from The Wolfgang Press