Bobby Bare Jr - Dig Down
this letter is addressed to Mr. Pete Townsend
hey brother I write you to say thanks for nothing
your generation used up all the feelings
and if we rock it looks like we're ripping you off
hey mr. Jimmy as I write upon this page
my hands they shake with a delicate rage
my amplifier has no aim for all it plays sounds derivative and mundane.
dig down dig down the lost and found
the beatles used up all there was to be found
dig down dig down the lost and found
nothing green can gather on a rolling stone
dig down dig on down
to whom it may concern for all Hendrix hath spurned
the rockets red glare the bombs bursting in air
my Fender is just a painted board
and if I light it on fire I become such a fucking bore
Black Francis, Black Francis, you were the last motherfucker out
grabbing the good stuff and leaving no doubt
that if rock and roll dies its not my fault
I do the best with the leftovers that I got
dig down dig down the lost and found
the beatles used up all there was to be found
dig down dig down the lost and found
nothing green can gather on a rolling stone
dig down dig on down
All of the juice has been sucked out
before Mel Bay asked us children to play
so as we climb upon this rotting corpse
stick it in once again see if the blood will coarse.
Chuck Berry, Chuck Berry you wrote the only original song
some white boys stole it we all still sing along
Chuck Berry sing to us one more time
before Fred Biscuit freezes everybody's mind
and
John Wesley Harding - Bastard Son
Bob Dylan is my father, Joan Baez is my mother
And I'm their bastard son
Though my roots show through I'm just 22
I don't belong to anyone
When The Band was disbanded, I was disowned
I got a number you can ring me on but I ain't got no phone
Got a forwarding address, baby I ain't got no home
I got no direction home
That's the style of a bastard child
This is the song of a bastard son
Uncle Lenny used to make me laugh
Took away my nightmares, tore my daydreams in half
Showed them to me reflected upside-down
In the mirror that Suzanne Vega found
Lenny's still doing his tricks today
Only goes to show that growing up might pay
Bruce and James were family friends
Took my mind to Carolina through the New Jersey bends
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Gave me a harmonica when I was three
Nailed a banjo to my knees
Now Bruce is a foreman and James is a slave
Bruce gave in and James just gave up
My family didn't grow up too well with technology
And I think this is why they disowned me
But now I wanna get back into the fold
I don't wanna be a black sheep, I don't wanna grow old
Here's to Warren, Neil, T-Bone, Andy, Lou, Townes, Elliott
Tom, Steve, Elizabeth, Elvia, Dave
You're singing something good and it's gotta be saved
I think so!
I've only just started playing guitar and already they say
I'm a has-been
Say my songs are too long, words are too strong, shoes
aren't clean
See the synthesizer's broken, the 12 inch does not exist
It's gonna take a blessed life to get on to the hitlist
I'm gonna need a blessed life to get on to the hitlist
But I'm singing for the men, for the women and the kids
Who grew up like me with seven basic instincts hid
Bob Dylan is my father, Joan Baez is my mother
And I'm their bastard son.