Hard On - Withered Hand

A beard, a beard, a beard, a beard

A beard don’t make you a man

No it takes something else

Something I’ll never have

And a beer, a beer, a beer, a beer

A beer makes you feel good

Like if you wanted you could

Kick anybody’s ass

A knife, a knife, a knife, a knife

A knife makes you feel strong

With a gun you’re never wrong

Everybody try to stay calm

I think the safety’s on

A car, a car, a car, a car

A car means you can go

Whenever you want to

With an FM radio

Guitars, guitars, guitars, guitars

Guitars, Thin Lizzy rocks

So dust off your old stompbox

And we’ll run it through your Vox amplifier

Cos you’re tired, you’re tired, you’re tired, you’re tired

You’re tired of feeling sad

Your disappointed, hurt and mad

And all the poetry you’ve written is bad

Because a pen, a pen, a pen, a pen

A pen don’t mean you can write

You’re no fucking John Updike

Even if you spell it right

Just like a hardon, a hardon, a hardon, a hardon, a hardon

A hardon don’t mean you’re in love

Cos when the pushing comes to shove

Do you really want to be there?