Tuxedo waiters, black ties White tablecloths and red wine We've been plannin' this night Lookin' forward to it for sometime Now honey, I know you love
I don't know too much about you Too much of my old man I know he walked right out that door We never saw him again Last I heard he was at the bar Doin
more than just keepin' it real Why don't you try bein' true? One song could save the life Of the young ones dependin' on you Hey, young man Hey, young man
gonna come at last Now your crosses are burning fast Southern man I saw cotton and I saw black Tall white mansions and little shacks Southern man,
can't even get a quickie Never that, got a area code for every city Couple young freaks, couple old heads that dig me Thinkin' they gon' mold me, knowin' they can't control me Young
concrete jungle Rumble, young man rumble I was taught stay hard as they come dude I was taught any problems confront you I was taught in these concrete jungle Rumble, young man
get a quickie Neva dat got a are codes for every city Couple young freaks, couple old heads That dig me, thinking they gone hold me, Knowing they don't control me Youngin
The man amplifier Has everything but desire Is a robot when he should Never tires, ever good And we're singing Parallel sympathy with you Skin to metal
Old man look at my life I'm a lot like you were Old man look at my life I'm a lot like you were Old man look at my life Twenty four and there's so much
Well the young man Ain't got nothing in the world these days I said a young woman Ain't got nothing in the world these days Well it's those old
just a wicked young man I am a vicious young man, oh, I am a vicious young man I am a vicious young man, oh, I am a wicked young man
a little bit crazy You could call me insane Walkin' 'round with all these whispers Runnin' 'round here in my brain I just can't help but hear 'em Man
I stumbled on a bunch of junk of mine In a shoebox the other night In between cleaning up files and messes That I'd made of my life Ticket stubs, poems
We laughed and joked in the cab of his truck Just my brother and me The night before he shipped out overseas A leatherneck, jar head marine He said, "
hick, hillbilly, hell I'm proud to be what that makes me I like a 60's truck The kind that's solid steel The kind that always runs It takes a man to
I want to be a good man A do like I should man I want to be the kind of man The mirror likes to see I want to be a strong man And admit that I was wrong
Hoverin' by my suitcase Tryin' to find a warm place to spend the night A heavy rain is fallin' Seems I hear your voice callin', "It's all right" Rainy
a man to tend the garden And keep an eye on her while he was gone Some say they ran away together Some say the gardener left alone Now the banker is an old man
