| He’s the old hippie that made us sick, He wrote muzak for drug addicts
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| He’s the fat geezer who talked too much, He used drugs as a crutch
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| He ate granola and he hugged trees, Looked like a dog bit by fleas
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| Had a beer belly and a tye-dyed shirt, Said he’d live forever but now he sleeps
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| in dirt
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| {Jerry was a piece of shit, shit, shit, shit, shit
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| I’m Grateful that he’s dead, dead, dead, dead, dead}
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| Like Jim Bakker he went far, Turned stadiums into singles bars
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| Did all of the drugs in San Francisco, Wrote 20 albums of long-haired disco
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| Then he sang I will survive, look who is no longer alive
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| So all you fuckers in your VW vans, Preppy dink hackysack clan
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| Wallstreet twats with ponytail hair, Your BMW’s with dancing bears
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| He was an icon, he was a god, He racked in your cash in wads
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| You were conned by a useless slob, The tours are over so get a job |