Note a theme developing there? ;)
I got sent home from school one day with a shiner on my eye
Fightin' was against the rules and it didn't matter why
When dad got home I told that story just like I'd rehearsed
Then stood there on those tremblin' knees and waited for the worst
He said let me tell you a secret about a father's love
A secret that my daddy said was just between us
He said daddy's don't just love their children every now and then
It's a love without end, Amen
It's a love without end, Amen
When I became a father in the spring of '81
There was no doubt that stubborn child was like my father's son
And when I thought my patients had been tested to the end
I took my daddy's secret and passed it on to him
I said let me tell you a secret about a father's love
A secret that my daddy said was just between us
I said daddy's don't just love their children every now and then
It's a love without end, Amen
It's a love without end, Amen
Last night I dreamed I died and stood outside those pearly gates
When suddenly I realized there must be some mistake
If they know half things I've done they'll never let me in
Then somewhere from the other side I heard these words again
They said let me tell you a secret about a father's love
A secret that my daddy said was just between us
I said daddy's don't just love their children every now and then
It's a love without end, Amen
It's a love without end, Amen
Not sure exactly about all of the words, but it goes something like this:
"Well, ya dadgum guvmint, ya dirty sons of b*tches, ya got my hands in every pocket of my britches."
put it on once in the early 70s when my roommates were stoned on acid and listening to "whole lotta love" (which i detested) and their brains imploded!
ONLY A FOOL WOULD SAY THAT
A world become one
Of salads and sun
Only a fool would say that
A boy with a plan
A natural man
Wearing a white stetson hat
Unhand that gun begone
There's no one to fire upon
If he's holding it high
He's telling a lie
CHORUS:
I heard it was you
Talkin' 'bout a world
Where all is free
It just couldn't be
And only a fool would say that
The man in the street
Draggin' his feet
Don't wanna hear the bad news
Imagine your face
There is his place
Standing inside his brown shoes
You do his nine to five
Drag yourself home half alive
And there on the screen
A man with a dream
CHORUS
Anybody on the street
Has murder in his eyes
You feel no pain
And you're younger
Then you realize
CHORUS
"...A time to kill, a time to heal, a time for peace I swear it's not to late."
If your paycheck depends on
The weather and the clock
If your conversation calls for
A little more than a coffee pot
If you need to pour your heart out
And try to rectify some situation
That you're facin'
Contact your American Honky-Tonk Bar Association
When Uncle Sam dips in your pocket
For most things you don't mind
But when your dollar goes to all of those
Standing in a welfare line
Well rejoice you have a voice
If you're concerned about the destination
Of this great nation
It's called the American Honky-Tonk Bar Association
It represents the hardhat
Gunrack, achin'-back
Over taxed, flag-wavin', fun-lovin' crowd
Their heart is in the music
And they love to play it loud
There's no forms or no applications
There's no red tape administrations
It's the American Honky-Tonk Bar Association
We're all one big family
Throughout the cities and the towns
We don't reach for handouts
We reach for those who are down
And every local chapter has a seven day a week
Available consultation
For your frustration
It's called the American Honky-Tonk Bar Association
It represents the mud flaps
Six pack, beer crack
Over-taxed, flag-wavin', fun-lovin' crowd
Their heart is in the music
And they love to play it loud
There's no forms or no applications
There's no red tape administrations
It's the American Honky-Tonk Bar Association
Go join your American Honky-Tonk Bar Association
Do not delay
Contact today
Your AHBA
AHBA
IT'S GOOD TO BE KING
It's good to be king, if just for a while
To be there in velvet, yeah, to give 'em a smile
It's good to get high, and never come down
It's good to be king of your own little town
Yeah, the world would swing if I were king
Can I help it if I still dream time to time
It's good to be king and have your own way
Get a feeling of peace at the end of the day
And when your bulldog barks and your canary sings
You're out there with winners, yeah, it's good to be king
Yeah I'll be king when dogs get wings
Can I help it if I still dream time to time
It's good to be king and have your own world
It helps to make friends, it's good to meet girls
A sweet little queen who can't run away
It's good to be king, whatever it pays
Excuse me if I have some place in my mind
Where I go time to time
Listen to the sound in the fields
The howling of these fearsome soldiers
They are coming into our midst
To cut the throats of your sons and consorts
To arms citizens
Form you battalions
March, march
Let impure blood
Water our furrows
What do they want this horde of slaves
Of traitors and conspiratorial kings?
For whom these vile chains
These long-prepared irons?
Frenchmen, for us, ah! What outrage
What methods must be taken?
It is we they dare plan
To return to the old slavery!
What! These foreign cohorts!
They would make laws in our courts!
What! These mercenary phalanxes
Would cut down our warrior sons
Good Lord! By chained hands
Our brow would yield under the yoke
The vile despots would have themselves be
The masters of destiny
Tremble, tyrants and traitors
The shame of all good men
Tremble! Your parricidal schemes
Will receive their just reward
Against you we are all soldiers
If they fall, our young heros
France will bear new ones
Ready to join the fight against you
Frenchmen, as magnanimous warriors
Bear or hold back your wounds
Spare these sad victims
That they regret taking up arms against us
But not these bloody despots
These accomplices of Bouillé
All these tigers who pitilessly
Ripped out their mothers' wombs
We shall enter into the pit
When our elders will no longer be there
There we shall find their ashes
And the mark of their virtues
We are much less jealous of surviving them
Than of sharing their coffins
We shall have the sublime pride
Of avenging or joining them
Drive on sacred patriotism
Support our avenging arms
Liberty, cherished liberty
Join the struggle with your defenders
Under our flags, let victory
Hurry to your evil tone
So that in death your enemies
See your triumph and our glory!
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Slow Train, by Bob Dylan
All that foreign oil controlling American soil,
Look around you, it's just bound to make you embarrassed.
Sheiks walkin' around like kings, wearing fancy jewels and nose rings,
Deciding America's future from Amsterdam and to Paris
And there's a slow, slow train comin' up around the bend.
Man's ego is inflated, his laws are outdated, they don't apply no more,
You can't rely no more to be standin' around waitin'
In the home of the brave, Jefferson turnin' over in his grave,
Fools glorifying themselves, trying to manipulate Satan
And there's a slow, slow train comin' up around the bend.