Intro

Verse

Well, we’re big rock singers

We got golden fingers

And we’re loved everywhere we go (That sounds like us!)

We sing about beauty and we sing about truth

At ten million dollars a show (Right!)

We take all kinda of pills that give us all kinda of thrills

But the thrill we’ve never known

Is the thrill that’ll git you

When ya git your picture on the cover of the Rolling Stone

Verse 2

I got a freaky old lady name a Cocaine Katie

Who embroiders all my jeans.

I got my poor old gray-haired daddy

Driving my limousine

Now it’s all designed to blow our mind

But our minds won’t really be blown

Like the blow that’ll git you

When you git your picture on the cover of the Rolling Stone

Solo

Verse

We got a lota little teenage blue eyes groupies

Who do anything we say

We got a genuine Indian Guru

Who’s teaching us a better way

We got all the friends that money can buy

So we never have to be alone

And we keep gittin’ richer, but we can’t get our picture

On the cover of the Rolling Stone