Album: other songs

The Campaign For Real Rock

Don't try so hard to be different
The cracks are beginning to show
You drift like a cloud
Through the festival crowd
In a frock coat from Saville Row

You've just been to an-all night party
Where I have to admit it takes pluck
To go out on the floor
And proclaim "What a bore"
In a T-shirt that reads "Disco Sucks"

Yes, here he comes the not-so-young
Pretender to the throne
He's singing "Rag Momma Rag"
Want you give that poor dog a bone?

And he's wondering why we can't connect
When he's sworn to us that he's totally wrecked
On the rustic charm that he affects
On a public schoolboy whim

With a raggle taggle plastic gypsy
Robert Zimmerframe
With a synthesized accordian
A-scramblin' up my brain

With a fiddle-dee-dee
A fiddle on high
Excuse me folks while I kiss the sky
Or at any rate give it one more try
Before I die
Before I die

The overrated hit the stage
Overpaid and over here
And their idea of counter-culture's
Momma's charge account at Scars

And they're wondering why we can't connect
With the ritual of the trashed guitar
One more paltry empty gesture
The ashes of a burned out star

Yes here they come both old and young
A contract low or high
The gathering of the tribes descending
Vultures from a caustic sky

The rotting carcase of July
An ugly sun hung out to dry
Your georgeous hippy dreams are dying
Your frazzled brains are putrifying

Repackaged sold and sanitizied
The devil's music exercise
You live, you die you lie you lie you die
Perpetuate the lie
Just to perpetuate the lie

Yes yes yes it's the summer festival
The truly detestable
Summer festival