Bobs Prisoner Of Funk
I've been having dreams of what may come to be What a nightmare Haven't found a job since I got my G.E.D. What do I care And in my dreams I am a short order cook Slinging burgers and fries till the dawn There's a jukebox in the corner playing loud Funky bass lines The counter man he sings his orders out in harmony There's a counter full of people singing background Everything I say Is repeated one bar later Five guys in the corner booth are clapping Clapping on 2 & 4 When I spin up a shake It sounds like budget synthesizer strings Bums in the back alley playing percussion on the cans There's bums in the back alley playing percussion on the cans (Lord, lord) Bums in the back alley playing percussion on the cans I said There's bums in the back alley playing percussion on the cans I'm a prisoner of funk I've got a jukebox for a brain What happened to the way it used to be Lord set me free Let me wake up again (Wake up now, you're gonna drown in funk, wake up) Burgers dancing on the grill it seems All the food is dancing in my dreams Leather boys line up to get their orange whips Popping fingers and a-singing Scooby dooby do wha Fat mama cass comes in digging into a bag of chips Her voice sets the place to ringing Yea, yea The mustard and the ketchup make a red and yellow rainbow Squirting high into the air Watch those funky fried potatoes I'm a prisoner of funk I've got a jukebox for a brain What happened to the way it used to be Lord set me free Let me wake up again (Wake up now, you're gonna drown in funk, wake up) Yea I said yea I said yea ahhh Yea ahhh Yeah ohahhh A ha, ah aha I been having dreams Yea, yea, yea, yea
