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Use A− / A+ para ajustar a leituraStrike Up the Band
Living off the friends we madeNever ever getting paidKicking ass and paying duesLose our mind in self abuseLoving ladies by the scoreWaking up and wanting moreI hope my Mama understandsWhen I strike up the bandWell I spit out my anger as the sweat do flyFifteen years of paying dues just to get me byNow the barkeeps would pay us by the crowds we bringBut those son-of-bitches never paid us one damn thingAnd my poor Daddy, he just don't understandIt's balls out tonight, watch the shit hit the fanWhen we strike up the bandNow those drop dead ladies line the very first rowI do believe I'd like to spend some time after the showNow them years gone by, the barkeeps pay in cashAnd them lovely ladies feed me an earful of trashAnd my old lady, she just don't understandWhy those floozies got their hands on her manAnd my poor Daddy, he still don't understandWhy it's balls out tonight watch the shit hit the fanGive it all that we can, we don't give a good damnWhen we strike up the bandLiving like a gypsy,an air conditioned hippieWho's never seen the light of dayRode dog and cowboyDon't know how, boyI ever lived this long this way, no, no, saidAnd my poor Daddy, he still don't understandWhy it's balls out tonight watch the shit hit the fanGive it all that we can, we don't give a good damnWhen we strike up the band
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