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I`m just average, common too I`m just like him, the same as you I`m everybody`s brother and son I ain`t different from anyone It ain`t no use a-talking to me It`s just the same as talking to you.
I was shadow-boxing earlier in the day I figured I was ready for Cassius Clay I said "Fee, fie, fo, fum, Cassius Clay, here I come 26, 27, 28, 29, I`m gonna make your face look just like mine Five, four, three, two, one, Cassius Clay you`d better run 99, 100, 101, 102, your ma won`t even recognize you 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, gonna knock him clean right out of his spleen."
Well, I don`t know, but I`ve been told The streets in heaven are lined with gold I ask you how things could get much worse If the Russians happen to get up there first. Wowee` pretty scary!
Now, I`m liberal, but to a degree I want ev`rybody to be free But if you think that I`ll let Barry Goldwater Move in next door and marry my daughter You must think I`m crazy! I wouldn`t let him do it for all the farms in Cuba.
Well, I set my monkey on the log And ordered him to do the Dog He wagged his tail and shook his head And he went and did the Cat instead He`s a weird monkey, very funky.
I sat with my high-heeled sneakers on Waiting to play tennis in the noonday sun I had my white shorts rolled up past my waist And my wig-hat was falling in my face But they wouldn`t let me on the tennis court.
I gotta woman, she`s so mean She sticks my boots in the washing machine Sticks me with buckshot when I`m nude Puts bubblegum in my food She`s funny, wants my money, calls me "honey."
Now I gotta friend who spends his life Stabbing my picture with a bowie-knife Dreams of strangling me with a scarf When my name comes up he pretends to barf. I`ve got a million friends!
Now they asked me to read a poem At the sorority sister`s home I got knocked down and my head was swimmin` I wound up with the Dean of Women Yippee! I`m a poet, and I know it. Hope I don`t blow it.
I`m gonna grow my hair down to my feet so strange So I look like a walking mountain range And I`m gonna ride into Omaha on a horse Out to the country club and the golf course. Carry the New York Times, shoot a few holes, blow their minds.
Now you`re probably wondering by now Just what this song is all about What`s probably got you baffled more Is what this thing here is for. It`s nothing It`s something I learned over in England.
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