you know Murph,
If all the hippies cut off their hair,
I don’t care, I don’t care.
I got my own world to live through
And I ain’t gonna copy you……
White-collar honda riders flashing down the street
Pointing their red plastics out to me.
They’re hoping soon our Katos will drop and die,
But we’re gonna wave our freak flag high . . . HIGH!
Falling mountains just don’t fall on me
Point on mister Honda man,
You can’t roost like me.
Nobody knows what I’m talking about
I’ve got my own life to live…
Murphs the one that’s gonna have to die
When it’s time for him to die
So let him live his life the way he wants to.
Sing on brother,
Play on Jimi . . . 