The Rolling Stones - Memo from Turner lyrics
[The Rolling Stones - Memo from Turner lyrics]
Didn't I see you down in San Antone
On a hot and dusty night?
Weren't you eating eggs in Sammy's there
When the black man drew the knife?
Didn't you drown a Jew in Rampton
When he washed his sleeveless shirt
With a Spanish-speaking gentlemen
The one that we all called Kurt
Come now, gentleman
There must be some mistake
How forgetful I'm becoming
Now you fixed your business straight
Weren't you in Hemlock Road
Back in nineteen fifty-six
You're a faggot little leather boy
With a smaller piece of stick
You're a lashing, smashing hunk of man
Your sweat shines sweet and strong
Your organ's working perfectly
But there's a part that's screwed on wrong
Oh, weren't you at the Coke convention
Back in nineteen sixty-five?
You're the misbred, grey executive
That I've seen heavily advertised
You're the man and the clean
You're the man who squats behind
The man who works the soft machine
Come now, gentlemen your love is all I crave
You'll still be in the circus
When I'm laughing, laughing in my grave
When the old men do the fighting
And the young men all look on
And the young girls eat their mummy's meat
From tubes of plasticon
So be wary please my gentle friends
Of all the skins you breed
They have a nasty habit
That is they bite the hands that bleed
So remember who you say you are
And keep your trousers clean
Boys will be boys and play with toys
So be strong with your beast
So Rosie dear, don't you think it's queer
So stop me if you please
The baby's dead, the lady said
"You schmucks all work for me!"
On a hot and dusty night?
Weren't you eating eggs in Sammy's there
When the black man drew the knife?
Didn't you drown a Jew in Rampton
When he washed his sleeveless shirt
With a Spanish-speaking gentlemen
The one that we all called Kurt
Come now, gentleman
There must be some mistake
How forgetful I'm becoming
Now you fixed your business straight
Weren't you in Hemlock Road
Back in nineteen fifty-six
You're a faggot little leather boy
With a smaller piece of stick
You're a lashing, smashing hunk of man
Your sweat shines sweet and strong
Your organ's working perfectly
But there's a part that's screwed on wrong
Oh, weren't you at the Coke convention
Back in nineteen sixty-five?
You're the misbred, grey executive
That I've seen heavily advertised
You're the man and the clean
You're the man who squats behind
The man who works the soft machine
Come now, gentlemen your love is all I crave
You'll still be in the circus
When I'm laughing, laughing in my grave
When the old men do the fighting
And the young men all look on
And the young girls eat their mummy's meat
From tubes of plasticon
So be wary please my gentle friends
Of all the skins you breed
They have a nasty habit
That is they bite the hands that bleed
So remember who you say you are
And keep your trousers clean
Boys will be boys and play with toys
So be strong with your beast
So Rosie dear, don't you think it's queer
So stop me if you please
The baby's dead, the lady said
"You schmucks all work for me!"