Tonalité : E major
Intro 1
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G
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E
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D
Verse 1
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I've played every kind
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of gig there is to play now
I've played faggot bars, hooker bars,
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E
mo torcycle funerals
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In opera houses, concert halls,
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G
halfway houses
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Verse 2
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Well I found that in all these
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places that I've played
All the people that I've played
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for are the same people
So if you'll listen,
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A
maybe you'll see someone you know in this song
Verse 3
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D
A most disgusting song
Verse 4
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G
The local diddy bop pimp comes in
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Acting limp he sits down with a grin
Next to a girl that has
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never been chaste
The bartender wipes a smile
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D
off his face
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The delegates cross the floor
Curtsy and promenade
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through the doors
And slowly the evening
begins
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G
Verse 5
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And there's Jimmy "Bad
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Luck" Butts
Who's just crazy about them East
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Lafayette weekend sluts
Talking is the lawyer in crumpled up shirt
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And everyone's drinking
the detergents
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A
D
That cannot remove their hurts
Verse 6
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While the Mafia provides your
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drugs
Your government will provide
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the shrugs
And your national guard
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E
will supply the slugs
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So they sit all satisfied
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A
Verse 7
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And there's old playboy
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Ralph
Who's always been shorter
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than himself
And there's a man with his chin in his hand
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Am
Who knows more than
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he'll ever understand
Verse 8
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Yeah, every night it's the same old thing
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Getting high, getting drunk,
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getting horny
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At the Inn- Between, again
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Verse 9
And there's the bearded schoolboy
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with the wooden eyes
Who at every scented skirt whispers
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up and sighs
And there's a teacher that will
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E
kiss you in French
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Who could never give love,
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A
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could only fearfully clench
Verse 10
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Yeah, people every night
it's the same old thing
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E
Getting pacified, ossified, affectionate at Mr. Flood's party,
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G
Verse 11
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And there's the militant with his store-
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bought soul
There's someone here who's almost
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a virgin I've been told
And there's Linda glass- made
who speaks of the past
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Who genuflects, salutes,
signs the cross and stands at half mast
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Verse 12
Yeah, they're all here,
the Tiny Tims and the Uncle Toms
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Redheads, brunettes,
brownettes and the dyed haired blondes
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Who talk to dogs,
chase broads and have hopes of being mobbed
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Who mislay their dreams and later
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claim that they were robbed
Verse 13
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And every night it's going
to be the same old thing
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Getting high, getting drunk, getting horny
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A
Lost, even, at Martha's Vineyard, again
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