Back then we cut off the poets fingers
yeah, it was our idea of fun
but they threw us in jail - no hope for bail
back in June of 71

& Our harvest golden wild eyesight
yeah, we watch charlie take the rap
but the killer calls and the caterwauls
covered up the sound of all this crap

Oh superstar, that's who you are
you're drenched in the mirror blood
I've seen the papers and mind rapers coming
they wanna drag you thru the mud

Blind drivers fumble for the car keys
4 wheels on floats of rock and roll
Queen bitchin' peace pipes & long eyelashes
her poison denim takes it's toll

Pack up your paisley-laden profiles, yeah
put down the bowl - pick up the booze
gas up the whales and hit the tarmac
nothing to gain - no time to lose

so golden tan - wait in the van
'cause they're burning blue and red
& I've got to go talk to this nice man
you see a friend of mine is dead.

It might not hit you while you're dreaming
no babe, good times are not always fun
the fragile flowers they're out there screaming
cut down in June of 71.