(Chinn/Chapman)
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So your old man went and called you a degenerate bum
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And you stood there crackin' on your cinnamon gun
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And your Ma was knockin' at your sister's brains
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And you couldn't help thinkin' what she hoped to gain
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Just then that freak walked in the door
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And knocked me to the floor
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You said, hey man, you're on some kind of trip
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He said, don't give me no lip
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Just turn it down, come on turn it down
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I can't take no more of that God awful sound
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So for God's sake turn it down
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Now the suspicious minds of your learned friends
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Will eat away at your kind 'til the music ends
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And the creep that taught you everything you know
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Will hypocritically ask you what the hell you know
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He'll go out and mess around, then go home without a sound
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You said, hey man, you're some kinda monk
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He said, listen here you punk
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Just turn it down, come on turn it down
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I can't take no more of that God awful sound
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So for God's sake turn it down
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Turn it down, just turn it down
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Come on turn it down, I said turn it down
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Come on turn it down, just turn it down
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I can't take no more of that God awful sound
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So for God's sake turn it down
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Turn It Down
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| Sweet |
