When he was a young man, he had nothing.
And had nothing to loose.
So he’d push the envelop.
He’d Take chances and his time he wasn‘t afraid to use.
He hung out in the bars,
drank too much whisky,
and thought about music and almost nothing
but women, fast cars, and bein’ frisky.
So it was 1970 something.
His music was his passion
Rhymin Simon and Tull and Rod Stewart, with Maggie May.
He could take rock and roll in any fashion.
Jagger was struttin his skinny legs,
And his profound lips.
Janice Joplin bit the dust years ago
Too much smack and too many acid trips.
Hendrix said that manic-depression was a frustration mess.
As he played guitar with his teeth.
He’d be dead soon,
If He’d been there He’d have given him a black wreath.
Uppers and downers, speed, whites and reds.
Never touch the stuff
But you didn’t mess with the police,
You just didn‘t give them any guff.
Then there was Alice’s restaurant by Guthrie
Dylan had a special place in his mind.
And he listened quietly
While he did his 9 to 5 grind.
In his basement he did play.
Most of the time he sounded pretty nice,
He did a solo performance every day at two
Even though the audience was just the mice.
There was a little club down in the south
That had an open mic night every day of the week.
If you could play and sing,
All you had to do was not be meek.
They wrote some songs
With Dylan and Donavon as an inspiration
But there was no recording contract
They simply didn’t get an invitation.
James Brown was the godfather of soul
And Aretha rode in her Pink Cadillac
Down the highway to love.
Drink too much whisky you’ll wind up with a heart attack.
So all you got to do is get high and get up on stage,
you don‘t need no luck.
Just play your guitar,
Cause you’ve always known,
you’re just star struck.
And had nothing to loose.
So he’d push the envelop.
He’d Take chances and his time he wasn‘t afraid to use.
He hung out in the bars,
drank too much whisky,
and thought about music and almost nothing
but women, fast cars, and bein’ frisky.
So it was 1970 something.
His music was his passion
Rhymin Simon and Tull and Rod Stewart, with Maggie May.
He could take rock and roll in any fashion.
Jagger was struttin his skinny legs,
And his profound lips.
Janice Joplin bit the dust years ago
Too much smack and too many acid trips.
Hendrix said that manic-depression was a frustration mess.
As he played guitar with his teeth.
He’d be dead soon,
If He’d been there He’d have given him a black wreath.
Uppers and downers, speed, whites and reds.
Never touch the stuff
But you didn’t mess with the police,
You just didn‘t give them any guff.
Then there was Alice’s restaurant by Guthrie
Dylan had a special place in his mind.
And he listened quietly
While he did his 9 to 5 grind.
In his basement he did play.
Most of the time he sounded pretty nice,
He did a solo performance every day at two
Even though the audience was just the mice.
There was a little club down in the south
That had an open mic night every day of the week.
If you could play and sing,
All you had to do was not be meek.
They wrote some songs
With Dylan and Donavon as an inspiration
But there was no recording contract
They simply didn’t get an invitation.
James Brown was the godfather of soul
And Aretha rode in her Pink Cadillac
Down the highway to love.
Drink too much whisky you’ll wind up with a heart attack.
So all you got to do is get high and get up on stage,
you don‘t need no luck.
Just play your guitar,
Cause you’ve always known,
you’re just star struck.