Ahh, it'll take a little time
Might take a little crime
To come undone now
We'll try to stay blind
To the hope and fear outside
Hey child, stay wilder than the wind
And blow me in to cry
Who do you need, who do you love
When you come undone
Words, playing me deja vu
Like a radio tune I swear I've heard before
Chill, is it something real
Or the magic I'm feeding off your fingers
Can't ever keep from falling apart
At the seams
Can I believe you're taking my heart...
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
There is beauty in this land,
But i don't often see it.
There is beauty in this land,
But i don't often feel it.
Pimples are flowers,
Musicians are cowards!
Let's argue in the kitchen,
For hours and hours.
Tomorrow is a travesty,
Tomorrow should be ours.
Musicians are cowards!
Get away and save yourself
Turn away and don't look back
Get away and save yourself
Grey skies are turning black
'cause I will always
Hurt everyone I love
If I were you,
I'd run away 'cause it's true
That I will always
Hurt everyone I love
I'm aching for you
But you're bound to bleed if I adore you
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
You've got me girl on the run around run around
You've got me all around town
You've got me girl on the run around
And it's getting me down, getting me down
Lady, if you want to find a lover
Then you look no further
For I'm gonna be your Only
Searching at the start of the season
And my only reason
Is that I'll get to you
I'll find some way of connection
Hiding my intention
Then I'll move up close to you
I'll use you and I'll confuse you
And then I'll lose you
Still you won't suspect me
I tried to sneak myself through, tried to get to the other side
I had to patch up the cracks and the holes that I have to hide
For a little bit of time even made it work okay
Just long enough to really make it hurt
When they figured me out and it all just rotted away
Don't you fucking know what you are?
Go on get back to where you belong!
You better take a good look cause I'm full of sh*t
With every bit of my heart I've tried to believe in it
You can dress it all up, you can try to pretend
But you can't change anything
You can't change anything
In the end
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
Still don't know what I was waiting for
And my time was running wild
A million dead-end streets and
Every time I thought I'd got it made
It seemed the taste was not so sweet
So I turned myself to face me
But I've never caught a glimpse
Of how the others must see the faker
I'm much too fast to take that test
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strange)
Ch-ch-Changes
Don't wanna be a richer man
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strange)
Ch-ch-Changes
Just gonna have to be a different man
Time may change me
But I can't trace time
Ooo yeah
I watch the ripples change their size
But never leave the stream
Of warm impermanence and
So the days float through my eyes
But still the days seem the same
And these children that you spit on
As they try to change their worlds
Are immune to your consultations
They're quite aware of what they're going through
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strange)
Ch-ch-Changes
Don't tell them to grow up and out of it
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strange)
Ch-ch-Changes
Where's your shame
You've left us up to our necks in it
Time may change me
But you can't trace time
Strange fascination, fascinating me
Ah changes are taking the pace I'm going through
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strange)
Ch-ch-Changes
Oh, look out you rock 'n rollers
Ch-ch-ch-ch-Changes
(Turn and face the strange)
Ch-ch-Changes
Pretty soon now you're gonna get older
Time may change me
But I can't trace time
I said that time may change me
But I can't trace time
All of my life
I've been waitin' in the rain
I've been waiting for a feeling
That never, ever came
It feels so close
But always disappears
Darlin', in your wildest dreams
You never had a clue
But it's time you got the news
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
I read the news today oh boy
About a lucky man who made the grade
And though the news was rather sad
Well I just had to laugh
I saw the photograph.
He blew his mind out in a car
He didn't notice that the lights had changed
A crowd of people stood and stared
They'd seen his face before
Nobody was really sure
If he was from the House of Lords.
I saw a film today oh boy
The English army had just won the war
A crowd of people turned away
But I just had to look
Having read the book
I'd love to turn you on.
Woke up, fell out of bed,
Dragged a comb across my head
Found my way downstairs and drank a cup,
And looking up I noticed I was late.
Found my coat and grabbed my hat
Made the bus in seconds flat
Found my way upstairs and had a smoke,
Somebody spoke and I went into a dream.
I read the news today oh boy
Four thousand holes in Blackburn, Lancashire
And though the holes were rather small
They had to count them all
Now they know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall.
I'd love to turn you on
My poor heart it's been so dark
Since you've been gone
After all you're the one who turns me off
You're the only one who can turn me back on
My hi-fi is waiting for a new tune
My glass is waiting for some fresh ice cubes
I'm just sitting here waiting for you
To come on home and turn me on
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
Open wide oh no don't you waste it
Oh shit all over ya face kid
Ya know ya know one thing
You know me I like to sling
That dick you know what so roll over girl while I stick it in ya
But I'll turn it wild while I'm ridin' that ass scream and shout
My name is the same
Just another pussy that I had to tame
... a scrub is checkin' me
But his game is kinda weak
And I know that he cannot approach me
Cuz I'm lookin' like class and he's lookin' like trash
Can't get wit' no deadbeat ass
So (no)
I don't want your number (no)
I don't want to give you mine and (no)
I don't want to meet you nowhere (no)
I don't want none of your time (no)
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
Gonna step outside, I'm gonna step out
Heart's on fire, leaving all behind you Living life feeding appetites
Stake through every heart stop in the mood
Being glad, breathing half the time
Heart's on fire, leaving all behind you
Dark as night, let the lightning guide you
Last edited by Tonatiuh; 05-04-2014 at 05:58 PM.
Life on telephones,
Love on open roads
Into great unknowns
I stumble brightly
Indigo, breathless yet
I'll link to your regret
Sunflowers as teachers pets
Bent from lightning
I'll bend
I'll bend for you
Shadows give your light to me
Shadows give your light to me
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
Shed your casing, show your lines and shapes
Wear your insides
On the outside
Show your enemy
What you look like
Self-destruction leads its way
Your weapons turn against yourself
Cutting through, killing you
A downward spiral, the shadowbeast has won
The shadowbeast calls
A vulture of life
Your worst enemy dwells
From within
Weak is your body,
Helpless your soul,
The beast destroyed your will
Left nothing but an empty shell
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
Stab a sorry heart
With your favourite finger
Paint the whole world blue
And stop your tears from stinging
Hear the cavemen singing
Good news they're bringing
Seven seas
Swimming them so well
Glad to see
My face among them
Kissing the tortoise shell
A longing for
Some fresher feeling
Belonging
Or just forever kneeling
Where is the sense in stealing
Without the grace to be it
Seven seas
Swimming them so well
Glad to see
My face among them
Kissing the tortoise shell
Burning my bridges
And smashing my mirrors
Turning to see if you're cowardly
Burning the witches with mother religious
You'll strike the matches and shower me
In water games
Washing the rocks below
Taught and tamed
In time with tear flow
Seven seas
Swimming them so well
Glad to see
My face among them
Kissing the tortoise shell
I want to go to the end of my fantasies
I know it is forbidden
I am crazy. I am letting myself go
I'm guilty
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
Scar tissue that I wish you saw
Sarcastic mister know it all
Close your eyes and I'll kiss you 'cause
With the birds I'll share
With the birds I'll share
This lonely view
With the birds I'll share
This lonely view...
I told her thank you
She said that's it
I got real nervous, she kissed my lips
And in that moment, I swore, she was all mine
[didn't want to recycle a song but it's what came to mind. at least it's a different verse.]
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
She twines her spines up slowly towards the boiling sun,
And when I touched her skin, my fingers ran with blood.
Illness be or wellness thrive, my dream proves I am yet alive.
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
I am
Tainted
And happiness and peace of mind
Were never meant for me
All these
Pieces
And promises and left behinds
If only I could see
In my
Nothing
You meant everything
Everything to me
Give me release
Witness me
I am outside
Give me peace
Heaven holds a sense of wonder
And I wanted to believe
That I'd get caught up
When the rage in me subsides
In this white wave
I am sinking
In this silence
In this white wave
In this silence
I believe
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
Get up, get out, get away from these liars
'Cause they don't get your soul or your fire
Take my hand, knot your fingers through mine
And we'll walk from this dark room for the last time
Something's wrong, shut the light
Heavy thoughts tonight
And they aren't of Snow White
Dreams of war, dreams of liars
Dreams of dragon's fire
And of things that will bite, yeah
Sleep with one eye open
Gripping your pillow tight
Exit light
Enter night
Take my hand
We're off to never-never land
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
All that I am
All that I ever was
Is here in your perfect eyes, they're all I can see
I don't know where
Confused about how as well
Just know that these things will never change for us at all
Forgetting all I'm lacking, completely incomplete
I'll take your invitation, you take all of me now
I'm falling even more in love with you
Letting go of all I've held on to
I'm standing here until you make me move
I'm hanging by a moment here with you
I'm living for the only thing I know
I'm running and not quite sure where to go
And I don't know what I'm diving into
Just hanging by a moment here with you
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
I feel far away from you. so what else is new?
The moon is closer to the sun than I am to anyone.
Yeah all this pushing and pullin ya
It's bound to come to a killin' now
Why does it always gotta be this way with us
And before we make love we gotta draw a little
Blood
So you want to live forever, don't ya
I feel your pressure drop
And when I'm workin' the right side of your neck baby
You never want me to stop
What can I do to get over you
I'm on a main vein search
And I think I'm getting closer baby
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
Girls suck
Girls suck
They suck and suck and never get enough
Girls suck
They suuuuuck
And I'm a girl 'cause I got rotten luck
Well, one day a girl and guy made sweet, sweet love
And so ya know how so she got knocked up
So now here I am with nothing at all to do
And my one comfort is that I'm better than all of you
Life sucks
It suuuuucks
It sucks, but no one really gives a fuck
Life sucks
It suuuuuucks
And I'm alive 'cause I've got rotten luck
Life sucks
And girls suck
"[Scapegrace,] I don't know how anyone can stand such a sinister and mean individual as you." - Maritsa Darmandzhyan
Brought to you by socionix.com
There is no god up in the sky tonight
No sign of heaven anywhere in sight
All that was true is left behind
Once I could see now I am blind
Don't want your dreams you try to sell
This disease I give to myself
How does it feel?
She makes it sweeter than the sun
I get too tight I come undone
I bow my head to confess
The temple walls are made of flesh
Runs up my arms 'til I'm on track
Itches my skin right off of my back
I'll heal your wounds
I'll set you free
I'm Jesus Christ on Ecstasy
How does it feel?
I am so dirty on on the inside
How does it feel?
Suck
A thousand lips a thousand tongues
A thousand throats a thousand lungs
A thousand ways to make it true
I want to do terrible things to you
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
she spread herself wide open to let the insects in
she leaves a trail of honey to show me where she's been
she has the blood of reptile just underneath her skin
seeds from a thousand others drip down from within
oh my beautiful liar
oh my precious whore
my disease my infection
I am so impure
get it
devils speak of the ways in which she'll manifest
angels bleed from the tainted touch of my caress
need to contaminate to alleviate this loneliness
I now know the depths I reach are limitless
oh my beautiful liar
oh my precious whore
my disease my infection
I am so impure
And I'm so dirty
Call me daddy
You're so sexy
You can be my bad girl
If someone hurt you
And you tried to hide it
I'll cut you deeper
'Cause I know you like it
Pain I got, girl
Can satisfy you
But I can't love you
I won't even try to
And that junkie urge
Deep down inside you
Couldn't keep my secret
But I know you'd like to
Girl, you never gon' get
Love from a heart of stone
Some of us were just plain
Meant to be alone
I'm all out of secrets
I'm running out of lies
And I can see the end, girl
When I look into your eyes
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah
And I'm so nasty
And I'm so greedy
And I'm so lonesome
Girl, I'm so needy
I want to take you
And make you my girl
My willing hostage
My favorite prisoner
I'll be your owner
And I'll be your jailer
I'll be your lover
Girl, I'll be your Savior
I'll be your alpha
And your omega
I'll break your heart, girl
And you'll call me later
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
They pulled in just behind the bridge
He lays her down, he frowns
"Gee my life's a funny thing, am I
still too young?"
He kissed her then and there
She took his ring, took his babies
It took him minutes, took her nowhere
Heaven knows, she'd have taken anything, but
All night
She wants the young American
Young American, young American, she wants the young American
All right
She wants the young American
Scanning life through the picture
window
She finds the slinky vagabond
He coughs as he passes her Ford
Mustang, but
Heaven forbid, she'll take anything
But the freak, and his type, all for
nothing
He misses a step and cuts his hand, but
Showing nothing, he swoops like a song
She cries "Where have all Papa's heroes gone?"
All the way from Washington
Her bread-winner begs off the bathroom floor
"We live for just these twenty years
Do we have to die for the fifty more?"
All night
He wants the young American
Young American, young American,
he wants the young American
All right
He wants the young American
Do you remember, your President Nixon?
Do you remember, the bills you have to pay?
Or even yesterday?
Have been the un-American?
Just you and your idol sing falsetto
'bout Leather, leather everywhere, and
Not a myth left from the ghetto
Well, well, well, would you carry a razor
In case, just in case of depression?
Sit on your hands on a bus of survivors
Blushing at all the afro-Sheeners
Ain't that close to love?
Well, ain't that poster love?
Well, it ain't that Barbie doll
Her hearts have been broken just like you
All night
You want the young American
Young American, young American, you want the young American
All right
You want the young American
You ain't a pimp and you ain't a hustler
A pimp's got a Cadi and a lady got a Chrysler
Black's got respect, and white's got his soul train
Mama's got cramps, and look at your hands ache
(I heard the news today, oh boy)
I got a suite and you got defeat
Ain't there a man who can say no more?
And, ain't there a woman I can
sock on the jaw?
And, ain't there a child I can hold without judging?
Ain't there a pen that will write before they die?
Ain't you proud that you've still got faces?
Ain't there one damn song that can make me
break down and cry?
All night
I want the young American
I See That Lantern Trimmed Low Burning In Our Home.
And Though I Feel Like Crying, I Swear Tonight, I'll Cry No More.
How Many Times Have I Prayed
That I Would Get Lost Along The Way?
Dream With The Feathers Of Angels Stuffed Beneath Your Head.
The Regulator's Swinging Pendulum.
Come With Me And Walk The Longest Mile.
Is His Wallet Leather? Is His Wallet Fat?
For Not A Year Later It's Got You Lying On Your Back.
You Should Have Closed Your Windows And Got Another Dog.
You Should Have Chained Up All The Doors And Switched Up All The Locks.
And How Many Times Have I Prayed
The Angels Would Speed Me Away.
Dream With The Feathers Of Angels Stuffed Beneath Your Head.
The Regulator's Swinging Pendulum.
Come With Me And Walk The Longest Mile.
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
If the sky that we look upon
Should tumble and fall
All the mountains should crumble to the sea
I won't cry, I won't cry
No, I won't shed a tear
Just as long as you stand, stand by me
I watched you suffer a dull aching pain
Now you decided to show me the same
No sweeping exits or offstage lines
Could make me feel bitter or treat you unkind
Wild horses couldn't drag me away
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
The boy was in the hallway drinking a glass of tea
From the other end of the hallway a rhythm was generating
Another boy was sliding up the hallway
He merged perfectly with the hallway,
He merged perfectly, the mirror in the hallway
The boy looked at Johnny, Johnny wanted to run,
but the movie kept moving as planned
The boy took Johnny, he pushed him against the locker,
He drove it in, he drove it home, he drove it deep in Johnny
The boy disappeared, Johnny fell on his knees,
started crashing his head against the locker,
started crashing his head against the locker,
started laughing hysterically
When suddenly Johnny gets the feeling he's being surrounded by
horses, horses, horses, horses
coming in in all directions
white shining silver studs with their nose in flames,
He saw horses, horses, horses, horses, horses, horses, horses, horses.
Do you know how to pony like bony maroney
Do you know how to twist, well it goes like this, it goes like this
Baby mash potato, do the alligator, do the alligator
And you twist the twister like your baby sister
I want your baby sister, give me your baby sister, dig your baby sister
Rise up on her knees, do the sweet pea, do the sweet pee pee,
Roll down on her back, got to lose control, got to lose control,
Got to lose control and then you take control,
Then you're rolled down on your back and you like it like that,
Like it like that, like it like that, like it like that,
Then you do the watusi, yeah do the watusi
Life is filled with holes, Johnny's laying there, his sperm coffin
Angel looks down at him and says, “Oh, pretty boy,
Can't you show me nothing but surrender?”
Johnny gets up, takes off his leather jacket,
Taped to his chest there's the answer,
You got pen knives and jack knives and
Switchblades preferred, switchblades preferred
Then he cries, then he screams, saying
Life is full of pain, I'm cruisin' through my brain
And I fill my nose with snow and go Rimbaud,
Go Rimbaud, go Rimbaud,
And go Johnny go, and do the watusi, oh do the watusi
There's a little place, a place called space
It's a pretty little place, it's across the tracks,
Across the tracks and the name of the place is you like it like that,
You like it like that, you like it like that, you like it like that,
And the name of the band is the
Twistelettes, Twistelettes, Twistelettes, Twistelettes,
Twistelettes, Twistelettes, Twistelettes, Twistelettes
Baby calm down, better calm down,
In the night, in the eye of the forest
There's a mare black and shining with yellow hair,
I put my fingers through her silken hair and found a stair,
I didn't waste time, I just walked right up and saw that
up there -- there is a sea
up there -- there is a sea
up there -- there is a sea
the sea's the possibility
There is no land but the land
(up there is just a sea of possibilities)
There is no sea but the sea
(up there is a wall of possibilities)
There is no keeper but the key
(up there there are several walls of possibilities)
Except for one who seizes possibilities, one who seizes possibilities.
(up there)
I seize the first possibility, is the sea around me
I was standing there with my legs spread like a sailor
(in a sea of possibilities) I felt his hand on my knee
(on the screen)
And I looked at Johnny and handed him a branch of cold flame
(in the heart of man)
The waves were coming in like Arabian stallions
Gradually lapping into sea horses
He picked up the blade and he pressed it against his smooth throat
(the spoon)
And let it deep in
(the veins)
Dip in to the sea, to the sea of possibilities
It started hardening
Dip in to the sea, to the sea of possibilities
It started hardening in my hand
And I felt the arrows of desire
I put my hand inside his cranium, oh we had such a brainiac-amour
But no more, no more, I gotta move from my mind to the area
(go Rimbaud go Rimbaud go Rimbaud)
And go Johnny go and do the watusi,
Yeah do the watusi, do the watusi ...
Shined open coiled snakes white and shiny twirling and encircling
Our lives are now entwined, we will fall yes we're together twining
Your nerves, your mane of the black shining horse
And my fingers all entwined through the air,
I could feel it, it was the hair going through my fingers,
(I feel it I feel it I feel it I feel it)
The hairs were like wires going through my body
I I that's how I
that's how I
I died
(at that Tower of Babel they knew what they were after)
(they knew what they were after)
[Everything on the current] moved up
I tried to stop it, but it was too warm, too unbelievably smooth,
Like playing in the sea, in the sea of possibility, the possibility
Was a blade, a shiny blade, I hold the key to the sea of possibilities
There's no land but the land
looked at my hands, and there's a red stream
that went streaming through the sands like fingers,
like arteries, like fingers
(how much fits between the eyes of a horse?)
He lay, pressing it against his throat (your eyes)
He opened his throat (your eyes)
His vocal chords started shooting like (of a horse) mad pituitary glands
The scream he made (and my heart) was so high (my heart) pitched that nobody heard,
No one heard that cry,
No one heard (Johnny) the butterfly flapping in his throat,
(His fingers)
Nobody heard, he was on that bed, it was like a sea of jelly,
And so he seized the first
(his vocal chords shot up)
(possibility)
(like mad pituitary glands)
It was a black tube, he felt himself disintegrate
(there is nothing happening at all)
and go inside the black tube, so when he looked out into the steep
saw this sweet young thing (Fender one)
Humping on the parking meter, leaning on the parking meter
In the sheets
there was a man
dancing around
to the simple
Rock & Roll
song
Johnny was a schoolboy when he heard his first Beatles song,
'Love me do,' I think it was. From there it didn't take him long.
Got himself a guitar, used to play every night,
Now he's in a rock 'n' roll outfit,
And everything's all right, don't you know?
“My typology is . . . not in any sense to stick labels on people at first sight. It is not a physiognomy and not an anthropological system, but a critical psychology dealing with the organization and delimitation of psychic processes that can be shown to be typical.” —C.G. Jung
Deep down in Louisiana close to New Orleans
Way back up in the woods among the evergreens
There stood a log cabin made of earth and wood
Where lived a country boy name Johnny B. Goode
Who never ever learned to read or write so well
But he could play the guitar just like ringing a bell
Go go, go Johnny go go
Go Johnny go go, go Johnny go go
Go Johnny go go, Johnny B. Goode
He use to carry his guitar in a gunny sack
And sit beneath the trees by the railroad track
Oh, the engineers used to see him sitting in the shade
Strumming to the rhythm that the drivers made
People passing by would stop and say
Oh my, that little country boy sure could play
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