So your old man went and called you a degenerate bum And you stood there cracking on your cinnamon gun And your Ma was knockin' at your sister's brains And you couldn't help thinkin' what she hoped to gain.
Just then that freak walked in the door Knocked me on the floor. You said: Hey man You're on some kind of trip? He said: Don't give me no lip. Just turn it down.
Come on turn it down
I can't take no more of that god awful sound
So for god's sake turn it down.
Now the suspicious mindn of your learned friends Will eat away at your kind till the music ends.
And the creep that taught you ev'ry thing you know
Will hyprocritic'lly ask you what the hell you know.
He'll go out and mess you around
Then go home without a sound you said: Hey man You're some kinda honk? He said: Listen you're a punk. Turn it down.
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