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 than 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