|
These executives have plooked the fuck out of me |
|
And there's still a long time to go before I've |
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Paid my debt to society |
|
And all I ever really wanted to do was |
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Play the guitar 'n bend the string like |
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Reent-toont-teent-toont-teenooneenoonee |
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I've got it |
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I'll be sullen and withdrawn |
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I'll dwindle off into the twilight realm |
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Of my own secret thoughts |
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I'll lay on my back here 'til dawn |
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In a semi-catatonic state |
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And dream of guitar notes |
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That would irritate |
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An executive kinda guy... |
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And sure enough JOE dreams up a few of those guitar notes |
|
that every executive despises...those low ones...every exec |
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knows it's only the records with the high squeally ones that |
|
get to be hits (except for Duane Eddy)... |
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Well, I guess that one did the trick |
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If they only coulda heard it |
|
Half-a-dozen of em woulda strangled |
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While they was suckin on each others' dick |
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But that was just a bunch of imaginary |
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Notes I played |
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Just a little extra somethin' |
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To keep me goin from day to day |
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That's okay |
|
I'll be gettin outta here pretty soon |
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Then I won't have to live |
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In this ugly fuckin room |
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Can't wait to see |
|
I can't wait to see what it's like |
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On the outside now... |
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[etc., etc., etc.] |
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And JOE just lays there, dreaming imaginary guitar notes for years |
|
on end, until finally they let him out... |
