| He got all of his money tied up in guitars
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| His poster hangin up at an east side bar
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| Sets his tip bucket up by the microphone stand
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| He don’t think about it, he’s a rock n roll man
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| I tried to run him off and set the record straight
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| He said girl you know better now, we’re soulmates
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| Only one speaker working and his amp’s blown out
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| Doesn’t get what the hell the Grateful Dead is about
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| Wears a gold lightening bolt in one of his ears
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| Likes to talk about Elvis, but only in the Sun years
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| He got sheets over the windows and records on the floor
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| A poster of Jimi Hendrix on his bedroom door
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| He didn’t go to college but he’s read a lot of books
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| Married one time for money and one time for looks
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| There’s always fist-fightin and drama in the band
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| Over cigarette ashes in a Budweiser can
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| Left town one time and didn’t call me for 3 days
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| But he lets me know he loves me in other ways
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| Got my name spelled on a dagger tattoo
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| Says I’m the only woman that he can talk to
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| Thinks Brando and The Wild One and The Mystery Train
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| Is proof that rock n roll cannot be explained
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| Owes all kinds of money, but don’t believe in debt
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| He’ll be the first to tell ya, it ain’t over yet
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| Sometimes we’re Sid and Nancy or Courtney and Kurt
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| We get higher than heaven we get lower than dirt
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| It’s the fightin' and the lovin' that make it work
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| Too lazy to be mean, and too mean to hurt
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| Make up and take me shopping at the Southern Thrift
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| Thanks the devil for his story and God for his gift
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| He got all of his money tied up in guitars
|
| His poster hangin up at an east side bar
|
| Sets his tip bucket up by the microphone stand
|
| He don’t think about it, he’s a rock n roll man
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| He’s a rock n roll man
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| He’s my rock n roll man |