there's a dude named turtle
he comes to the show
he dances in the front row
drinks whiskey and wine
and smokes the kind
and screams his mind
fuckin all the time
i mean all the time
this dude screamin his mind
the people all around him
it's no wonder they never pound him
turtle in the front row
turtle in the front row
hey ho
uh oh
turtle in the front row
turtle in the front row
hey ho
i stand amazed
as he is unfazed
by the stench of burnt hair
that was set ablaze
by the rail-riding ex-handed underage
that could never be caged
by a barricade
the positive rage
could never be restrained
turtle in the front row
turtle in the front row
hey ho uh oh
i watch from the stage
until the light fades
or my eyelid shades
become disengaged
turtle in the front row
surrounded by the ladies now
turtle is a lover
don't you be fooled
he won't blow his cover
the ladies love his long hair
and his little mustache
he's a pipe swingin pimp
with a pocket full of cash
bumpin and grindin
groovin and swayin
drinkin and smokin
sometimes even without payin
but stayin til the end
til the truck pulls away
sometimes he will walk
so he can freek another day
another day of freekin
in the front or in the back
he likes to take his time
for that he does not lack
you know him by his face
and the things he may shout
the dude he has no fear
now this is have no doubt
if he's got something to say
or maybe put it on a t-shirt
and then wear it every day
he wore the thing so much
it could surely use a stitch
it said "slap that shit
you son of a bitch"
slap that shit you son of a bitch
slap that shit you son of a bitch
slap that shit you son of a bitch
turtle in the front row
turtle in the front row
hey ho
uh oh
turtle in the front row
turtle in the front row
hey ho