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| Poison Native Tongue Strike Up The Band Living off the friends we made Never ever getting paid Kicking ass and paying dues Lose our mind in self abuse Loving ladies by the score Waking up and wanting more I hope my Mama understands When I strike up the band Well I spit out my anger as the sweat do fly Fifteen years of paying dues just to get me by Now the barkeeps would pay us by the crowds we bring But those son-of-bitches never paid us one damn thing And my poor Daddy, he just don't understand It's balls out tonight, watch the shit hit the fan When we strike up the band Now those drop dead ladies line the very first row I do believe I'd like to spend some time after the show Now them years gone by, the barkeeps pay in cash And them lovely ladies feed me an earful of trash And my old lady, she just don't understand Why those floozies got their hands on her man And my poor Daddy, he still don't understand Why it's balls out tonight watch the shit hit the fan Give it all that we can, we don't give a good damn When we strike up the band Living like a gypsy, an air conditioned hippie Who's never seen the light of day Rode dog and cowboy Don't know how, boy I ever lived this long this way, no, no, said And my poor Daddy, he still don't understand Why it's balls out tonight watch the shit hit the fan Give it all that we can, we don't give a good damn When we strike up the band |
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