Fool Them Some by Packy Lundholm Lyrics
Polyester, jheri curl, and a rosary
Rolling in a beat down Buick Century
Lost, out of gas, needs to make a call
He says "spare me a dollar
Or anything you got at all"
Now if you sympathize, dry your tears
He's been hitting this corner for years
Like grifters overworking the territory
You might fool them some, but you can't fool me
The tycoon's son co-opted the rebel yell
And wouldn't you know it, he hides it pretty well
Belting out revolution melodies
With a message that died with the 1950s
Now I'd like to wish you well
But you got too much hate to sell
Like punk rockers writing jingles for the RNC
You might fool them some, but you can't fool me
They say one's born every minute
And every minute, another one falls
Don't become some cold statistic
You better keep your head up
Or you know what's gonna happen
You know what's gonna happen to you
Now everybody's hung up on the telephone
Every waking hour, can't leave the damn thing alone
Spreading your lies and your old wives' tales
Putting your personality up for sale
Now you'd like me to think you're deep
But I don't believe a thing I read
Like the tales you're telling on the tiny screen
Like grifters overworking the territory
Like punk rockers writing jingles for the RNC
You can't fool me
Rolling in a beat down Buick Century
Lost, out of gas, needs to make a call
He says "spare me a dollar
Or anything you got at all"
Now if you sympathize, dry your tears
He's been hitting this corner for years
Like grifters overworking the territory
You might fool them some, but you can't fool me
The tycoon's son co-opted the rebel yell
And wouldn't you know it, he hides it pretty well
Belting out revolution melodies
With a message that died with the 1950s
Now I'd like to wish you well
But you got too much hate to sell
Like punk rockers writing jingles for the RNC
You might fool them some, but you can't fool me
They say one's born every minute
And every minute, another one falls
Don't become some cold statistic
You better keep your head up
Or you know what's gonna happen
You know what's gonna happen to you
Now everybody's hung up on the telephone
Every waking hour, can't leave the damn thing alone
Spreading your lies and your old wives' tales
Putting your personality up for sale
Now you'd like me to think you're deep
But I don't believe a thing I read
Like the tales you're telling on the tiny screen
Like grifters overworking the territory
Like punk rockers writing jingles for the RNC
You can't fool me