John Birch Blues

Lyrics
I'm not in I'm not out, you'd never hear me shout That my lady's some kind of strip-tease angel Taking her clothes off in hours, in what used to be ours Don't need no pornography, I think it's faking I think Hugh Hefner, he's a creep, I heard a rumour that he sleeps On a stack of glossy-back magazine fables Pictures of ladies in fig-leaves, like you'd sell horses or thieves Making out Adam, to be Eve's fornicator I'm not left I'm not right, I'm not black I'm not white Never make it on the political angles Like that west coasting, free boasting, cocaine and speed doseing Jerk on the T.V. who's faking Why don't you peel off and steal here And see who is real With the blues nice and easy or hot With all those debutante graces, of yours you'll make it easy The experience might help me a lot I'm not flash, I'm not brash, and I rarely get rash But that lady, she bites me on my tendon Feels like Achilles' tragedies, was passed on to my familly Oh babe come here and kiss the spot where I'm aching Why don't you peel off and steal here And see what is real With the blues nice and easy or hot With all those debutante graces, of yours you'll make it easy The experience might just help me a lot
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Credits
- Writers
- Gary Farr