Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Trouble Every Day, artist - Frank Zappa. Album song ZAPPAtite - Frank Zappa's Tastiest Tracks, in the genre Иностранный рок
Date of issue: 26.05.2016
Record label: Zappa Family Trust
Song language: English
Trouble Every Day |
Well I’m about to get sick |
From watchin' my TV |
Been checkin' out the news |
Until my eyeballs fail to see |
I mean to say that every day |
Is just another rotten mess |
And when it’s gonna change, my friend |
Is anybody’s guess |
So I’m watchin' and I’m waitin' |
Hopin' for the best |
Even think I’ll go to prayin' |
Every time I hear 'em sayin' |
That there’s no way to delay |
That trouble comin' every day |
No way to delay |
That trouble comin' every day |
Wednesday I watched the riot. |
.. |
Seen the cops out on the street |
Watched 'em throwin' rocks and stuff |
And chokin' in the heat |
Listened to reports |
About the whisky passin' 'round |
Seen the smoke and fire |
And the market burnin' down |
Watched while everybody |
On his street would take a turn |
To stomp and smash and bash and crash |
And slash and bust and burn |
And I’m watchin' and I’m waitin' |
Hopin' for the best |
Even think I’ll go to prayin' |
Every time I hear 'em sayin' |
That there’s no way to delay |
That trouble comin' every day |
No way to delay |
That trouble comin' every day |
Well, you can cool it, |
You can heat it. |
.. |
'Cause, baby, I don’t need it. |
.. |
Take your TV tube and eat it |
'N all that phony stuff on sports |
'N all the unconfirmed reports |
You know I watched that rotten box |
Until my head begin to hurt |
From checkin' out the way |
The newsman say they get the dirt |
Before the guys on channel so-and-so |
And further they assert |
That any show they’ll interrupt |
To bring you news if it comes up They say that if the place blows up They will be the first to tell, |
Because the boys they got downtown |
Are workin' hard and doin' swell, |
And if anybody gets the news |
Before it hits the street, |
They say that no one blabs it faster |
Their coverage can’t be beat |
And if another woman driver |
Gets machine-gunned from her seat |
They’ll send some joker with a brownie |
And you’ll see it all complete |
So I’m watchin' and I’m waitin' |
Hopin' for the best |
Even think I’ll go to prayin' |
Every time I hear 'em sayin' |
That there’s no way to delay |
That trouble comin' every day |
No way to delay |
That trouble comin' every day |
Hey, you know something people? |
I’m not black |
But there’s a whole lots a times |
I wish I could say I’m not white |
Well, I seen the fires burnin' |
And the local people turnin' |
On the merchants and the shops |
Who used to sell their brooms and mops |
And every other household item |
Watched the mob just turn and bite 'em |
And they say it served 'em right |
Because a few of them are white, |
And it’s the same across the nation |
Black and white discrimination |
Yellin' «You can’t understand me!» |
'N all that other jazz they hand me In the papers and TV and |
All that mass stupidity |
That seems to grow more every day |
Each time you hear some nitwit say |
He wants to go and do you in Because the color of your skin |
Just don’t appeal to him |
(No matter if it’s black or white) |
Because he’s out for blood tonight |
You know we got to sit around at home |
And watch this thing begin |
But I bet there won’t be many live |
To see it really end |
'Cause the fire in the street |
Ain’t like the fire in the heart |
And in the eyes of all these people |
Don’t you know that this could start |
On any street in any town |
In any state if any clown |
Decides that now’s the time to fight |
For some ideal he thinks is right |
And if a million more agree |
There ain’t no Great Society |
As it applies to you and me Our country isn’t free |
And the law refuses to see |
If all that you can ever be Is just a lousy janitor |
Unless your uncle owns a store |
You know that five in every four |
Just won’t amount to nothin' more |
Gonna watch the rats go across the floor |
And make up songs about being poor |
Blow your harmonica, son! |