LYRICS
Use A− / A+ to adjust text sizeHippie Radio
My daddy had a Pontiac on the beige-er side of yellowHe was a young man then and I was a little fellaI'd play in that bench back seat and listen to the songs get sunghe couldn't carry a tune in a bucketbut he'd sing at the top of his lungsCarry On My Wayward Son on the hippie radioSongs about the flower babies and the birth of rock and rollAnd I was a band, I would stand and we'd bounce down the roadA boy and his dad in a Pontiac with that hippie radioCan't' remember if it was seventeen, maybe eighteen is rightBut I'll never forget those babyblues and the glow of that dashboard lightI'd won her heart the week before and it was hot right from the startI busted her brother Billy's mouth for makin' fun of my carIt was White Wedding and Rebel Yell on the hippie radioI was a Werewolf in London, and she was Lady Marmalade's soulAnd I'd crank the band, take her hand and we'd pull off back a roadA boy and his girl in a Pontiac, and the hippie radioFour years and seven days from tying cans to the bumperI was pacing a maternity floor, my flower baby was a motherMy hands were shaking as we were leaving, taking our boy homeMy heart was full and in my head I could hear a long, long songCat's in the cradle and the silver spoon on the hippie radioA-B-C, 1-2-3, don't blink or he'll be goneAnd I took her hand and she just smiled with a look that said "I know"A boy and his dad and a boy and his girl in a PontiacAnd the hippie radio
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