they call it.
You know who I’m talkin’ bout,
them damn hippies who ruined everything.
One of these foggy days they might
end up with a pair of cement shoes
taking one long step off the end of the dock,
if ya get my gist.
I rattled ‘round Nam
boots, canteen, army greens
dreamed of comin’ back to these
cedars and firs, had to
put my life on a shelf.
Then ol’ lazy Sullivan cross the street
moved down to the coast, hell if he ever served.
Now his kids come back and make
his barn the Moonbeam Roastatarium.
So what if I grew some weed
in my dad’s ol’ barn.
I paid my dues and guy’s
gotta get by somehow.
Now them damn kids are shinin’ a light on me,
right across the street.
So just hush up when I give them
a reason to wish they’d stayed in that hippie town
they call the City of Subdued Excitement
or some damn thing.
I’ll give em’ something to get excited about.