| Junior and the drummer are fightingAbout a woman in the neighborhood Oh,
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| the drummer never hit a bad lick in his lifeAnd Junior never hit any goodYeah,
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| the colonel said that women are for loving, not fighting, But that didn’t
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| clear the air’Cause Junior’s still living in the blackboard jungleWith his
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| Elvis Presley hair Yeah, the drummer’s got the drum, the colonel’s got the
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| gunAnd Junior’s only got a knife, he’d better runIt’s a shootout on the
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| plantation, it’s so hard to understandWhy do some people have to hurt somebody?
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| The firewater’s not the villain.
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| Oh the last one to kiss is the first to shootAnd stabbing your friends is such
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| a drag to bootIt’s a shootout on the plantationOh, heaven help Mister Swan,
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| yeah. |
| (help me) And the cold steel blade is shiningEnough to cause your blood
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| to freezeBut the drummer is drumming a Rolling Stones' numberOn Junior’s head
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| and on his kneesOh, Oklahoma’s lonesome cowboys are turned on in Tinsel TownI
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| knew there’d be some cameras rolling if Andy was standing around.
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| () Won’t somebody help meYou gotta help me, help me, help me.
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| Why don’t you help me, help me?
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| Why don’t you tell me about it?
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| Why don’t you scream and shout it?
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| Won’t you help your mister?
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| Won’t you kiss your sister? |