Pick a name, pick a place
Chances are I've had the means to be there.
Pick a date, pick a time,
I've got it from a friend of mine
The ability to socialize.

Holy Mackerel

Once when I was young,
I troubled over imperfection in my knees.
When you cultivate a pompidour,
It's best to keep the top up for the breeze.
Cuts like hell, you know.
Sporty was a poetry boy
And liked to puff his pipe into the night.
But since he sold him hits of ecstasy,
John Law, he took a decade of his life.
That's a hunk o' life.

Holy Mackerel

Writer : CLAYPOOL, LES
Copyright : Lyrics © Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.