Amos T disgusting song

Ive played every kind of gig there is to play now

Ive played ****** bars, ****** bars, motor cycle funerals

In opera houses, concert halls , halfway houses.

Well I found that in all these places that Ive played
all the people Ive played for are the same people

So if youll listen, maybe youll see someone you know in this song.

A most disgusting song.

The local diddy bop **** comes in

Acting limp he sits down with a grin

next to a girl that has never been chased
The bartender wipes a smile off his face

The delegates cross the floor,

curtsy and promenade through the doors,

and slowly the evening begins.

And theres Jimmy 'Bad Luck' Butts

whos just crazy about them East Lafayette weekend *****

Talking is the lawyer in crumpled up shirt

And everyones drinking the detergents
that cannot remove their hurts

While the Mafia provides your drugs,

your government will provide the shrugs ,

and your national guard will supply the slugs,

so they sit all satisfied.

And theres old playboy Ralph
whos always been shorter than himself,
and theres a man with his chin in his hand,
who knows more than hell ever understand.
Yeah, every night its the same old thing
Getting high, getting drunk, getting horny

At the 'Inn-Between', again.

And theres the bearded schoolboy with the wooden eyes.

Who at every scented skirt whispers up andsighs
and theres the teacher that will kiss you in French

Who could never give love, could only fearfully clench
Yeah, people every night its the same old thing
Getting pacified, ossified , affectionate at Mr. Floods party, again

And theres the militant with his store-bought soul
Theres someone here whos almost a virgin Ive been told
And theres Linda glass-made who speaks of the past

who genuflects, salutes, signs the cross and stands at half masts
Yeah, Theyre all here, the Tiny Tims and the Uncle Toms,

red heads brunettes, brownettes and the dyed haired blondes,

Who talk to dogs, chase broads and have hopes of being mobbed,

who mislay their dreams and lay their claim that they were robbed

And every night its going to be the same old thing

Getting high, getting drunk, getting horny

Lost, even, at Marthas Vineyard, again