I said dreamer, you’re nothing but a dreamer,
Well can you put your hands in your head, oh no!
I said “Far out, what a day, a year, a life it is!”
You know, well you know you had it comin’ to you,
Now there’s not a lot I can do.
Lookin’ for some hot stuff baby this evenin’
I need some hot stuff baby tonight
I want some hot stuff baby this evenin’
Gotta have some hot stuff
Gotta have some love tonight
I need hot stuff
I want some hot stuff
I need some hot stuff
Hot town, summer in the city
Back of my neck getting dirty and gritty
Been down, isn’t it a pity
Doesn’t seem to be a shadow in the city
All around, people looking half dead
Walking on the sidewalk, hotter than a match head
Oh when the sun beats down and burns the tar up on the roof
And your shoes get so hot you wish your tired feet were fire proof
Under the boardwalk, down by the sea, yeah
On a blanket with my baby is where I’ll be
Well, they blew up the Chicken Man in Philly last night
And they blew up his house, too.
Down on the boardwalk they’re ready for a fight
Gonna see what them racket boys can do.
Steve walks warily down the street
With the brim pulled way down low
Ain’t no sound but the sound of his feet
Machine guns ready to go
Are you ready? Hey, are you ready for this?
Are you hanging on the edge of your seat?
Out of the doorway the bullets rip
To the sound of the beat, yeah
Got to get out of this place, if it’s the last thing we ever do…
Get 'em out by Friday!
You don’t get paid till the last one’s well on his way.
Get 'em out by Friday!
It’s important that we keep to schedule, there must be no delay.
They neither know of night or day,
They night and day pour out their thunder.
As every Ingot rolls away,
A dozen more are split asunder.
There is a sign above the gate: Eleven days since a man lay dying,
Now every shift brings fear and hate, and shaken men in terror crying.
The molten rivers boil away, a fiery brew Hell never equalled,
To their profits the bosses pray,
And Mammon sings in his grim cathedral:
His attendants join the choir,
and Heaven help us if we’re shirking!
Stoke the furnace’s altar fire and just be thankful that we’re working!
Well they hand your paycheck every week
And steal a piece of your soul every day
Well, I don’t need no gold watch in fifty years—baby, let’s be golden today!
Matthew and son, the work’s never done, there’s always something new.
The files in your head, you take them to bed, you’re never ever through.
And they’ve been working all day, all day, all day!
He’s got people who’ve been working for fifty years
No one asks for more money 'cause nobody cares
Even though they’re pretty low and their rent’s in arrears
The best things in life are free,
But you can keep 'em for the birds and bees.
Now give me money (that’s what I want)
That’s what I want (that’s what I want)
That’s what I want (that’s what I want) yeah
That’s what I want.
Money, get back
I’m all right Jack, keep your hands off of my stack.
Money, it’s a hit
Don’t give me that do-goody-good bullshit
Money, money, money
Must be funny
In the rich man’s world
Money, money, money
Always sunny
In the rich man’s world
Nothing that doesn’t show
Baby you’re a rich man
Baby you’re a rich man
Baby you’re a rich man too
You keep all your money in a big brown bag inside a zoo
Now look at them yo-yo’s; that’s the way you do it,
You play the guitar on the MTV.
That ain’t workin’; that’s the way you do it
Money for nothin’ and chicks for free.
Trailer for sale or rent, rooms to let, fifty cents.
No phone, no pool, no pets, I ain’t got no cigarettes.
Ah, but, two hours of pushin’ broom
Buys an eight by twelve four-bit room.
I’m a man of means by no means, king of the road.
If you drive a car, I’ll tax the street
If you try to sit, I 'll tax your seat
If you get too cold, I’ll tax the heat
If you take a walk, I’ll tax your feet
'Cause I’m the tax man…
And me, I’m flying in my taxi
Taking tips, and getting stoned
Hank, why do you drink, why do you blow smoke, why must you live out the songs that you wrote…