If I could write like Dylan, and sing like Willie,
Every album and song would make the young girls silly,
I'd travel around an old stony bus,
and never have reason to grumble or cuss.
If I could take pictures like Galen Rowell,
every body that seen 'em would praise and howl,
The Stars out west would pay me big bucks,
While the Texans drove me around, in their Big Ol' trucks.
If I could write, as well as I cook,
every couple o' days would see a new book,
every chapter and verse would be hailed as genius,
guess this is the spot where I mention my Penis?
If I could Pilot, as well as I drive, any wings I wanted would quickly arrive,
I'd meet-up with Jimmy, and some Parrotheads too,
then there'd sure be a party where ever we flew.
If money was bullshit, you know I'd have plenty, I'd light my joints with a ten or a twenty,
I'd roll those hundreds like back in the eighties, and fill my limo with foxy lil' ladies.
If I could write screenplays, the way I do doggerel,
Hollywood wouldn't treat me like a mutt or a mongrel,
I hang with Billy Bob, Smiling Jack, and Sam Jackson,
and write Ol' Bruce, some Willis-type action.
I'd make m. night shyamalan change his name,
before I cut him in on my deal-to-fame.
Spielberg and Coppola would know my digits, and the studio brass would start to fidgit !
If I loved Work, like I love Candy, any job on earth would be just dandy,
You'd see me slaving, for a dime or a dollar,
and come payday, I'd still Whoop 'N Holler,
and take my check home to my Little Darlin',
then tell some jokes like old George Carlin.
If I could realize my fantasies and dreams,
I'd teach Mr. Madoff some brand new schemes,
I'd stack up dollars 'til I owned the Chinese,
they'd bow and shuffle, saying Mr. Morgan "Please",
don't sell our land to the evil Tiawanese,
or North Korea, No, Please Please Please !
Every album and song would make the young girls silly,
I'd travel around an old stony bus,
and never have reason to grumble or cuss.
If I could take pictures like Galen Rowell,
every body that seen 'em would praise and howl,
The Stars out west would pay me big bucks,
While the Texans drove me around, in their Big Ol' trucks.
If I could write, as well as I cook,
every couple o' days would see a new book,
every chapter and verse would be hailed as genius,
guess this is the spot where I mention my Penis?
If I could Pilot, as well as I drive, any wings I wanted would quickly arrive,
I'd meet-up with Jimmy, and some Parrotheads too,
then there'd sure be a party where ever we flew.
If money was bullshit, you know I'd have plenty, I'd light my joints with a ten or a twenty,
I'd roll those hundreds like back in the eighties, and fill my limo with foxy lil' ladies.
If I could write screenplays, the way I do doggerel,
Hollywood wouldn't treat me like a mutt or a mongrel,
I hang with Billy Bob, Smiling Jack, and Sam Jackson,
and write Ol' Bruce, some Willis-type action.
I'd make m. night shyamalan change his name,
before I cut him in on my deal-to-fame.
Spielberg and Coppola would know my digits, and the studio brass would start to fidgit !
If I loved Work, like I love Candy, any job on earth would be just dandy,
You'd see me slaving, for a dime or a dollar,
and come payday, I'd still Whoop 'N Holler,
and take my check home to my Little Darlin',
then tell some jokes like old George Carlin.
If I could realize my fantasies and dreams,
I'd teach Mr. Madoff some brand new schemes,
I'd stack up dollars 'til I owned the Chinese,
they'd bow and shuffle, saying Mr. Morgan "Please",
don't sell our land to the evil Tiawanese,
or North Korea, No, Please Please Please !
