Nineteen seventy-one
We all heard the starters gun
New York was such a pity
But at Max's Kansas City we won

We all shot the shit at the bar
With Johnny O'Toole and his scar
And then old Clive Davis said
I'm surely gonna make us a star
I'm gonna make you a star
Just the way you are

But with all his style
I could see in his eyes
That we is goin' to trial

It was no surprise

The boys kept kickin' ass
As usual time would tell
But some bitch in the choir
Threw water on the fires of Hell
She loved to show and tell
Lord, she loved to tell

But with all our style
You could see in our eyes
That we are still on trial

And it was no surprise
No surprise
No surprise
No surprise

Midnight lady
Situation fetal
Vaccinate your ass
With a phonograph needle

I say
Look it here, friend of mine
You scratch like you need calamine
Flamingo boots, sole's a creakin'
Still in love and Puerto Rican too

Ridin' on the wheels of hell
Smokin' up our axle grease
Oh the backstage is rockin'
And we're coppin' from the local police
That's right, the local police
Or the justice of peace

But with all our style
You could see in our eyes
That we are still on trial

Baby, it's no surprise
No Surprise
No Surprise
No Surprise

Rock and roll junkie whore
Got my foot inside the door
Knock, knock, knock, knock, knock
Nobody's keepin' score

Bad times go away
Come again some other day
Topaz and sazzafrazz
Will keep the blues away

Candy store and rock and roll
Corporation jellyroll
Play the singles, it ain't me
It's programmed insanity

You ASCAP
If BMI
Could ever make a mountain fly
If Japanese can boil teas
Then where the fuck's my royalties?

Ow-Ow-Ow-Ow!

Copyright: BMG Rights Management
Writer(s): Joe Perry, Steven Victor Tallarico