The Critic

Tell it like it is He gets up real early on his morning drive Down to the office for his 9 to 5 He drives a '94 twotone economy car Loves to tell the local bands down at the bar That he's the critic Yea, I can hook you up I know everybody in the business He flunked junior high band He couldn't march in time He tried to write a song once But he couldn't make it rhyme He learned two or three chords On a pawn shop guitar He just never quite had what it took to be a star So he's a critic I work for The Gazette man I got a real job He did a five star column on a band you've never heard He did a bluegrass review without an unkind word He thought it was time to ask his boss for a raise His boss said 'I can't even tell if anybody is even reading your page' Yea So he thought, and he thought a little more He caught a young hot star headed into town And then he hid behind his typewriter and gunned the boy down Here come the letters, the emails, the faxes They raised him to 20, 000 dollars after taxes He's a happy critic Yea, he's rollin' in the dough Man I could do this forever, this is easy They are all reading my column Please don't tell my mom That I write the music column for The Gazette She still thinks that I play piano down at the cathouse Let's get funky with this now boys Play it on Come on Shannon There's old Biff jumpin' in Glenn's laying it down Come on Shannon My man Steve Man my fingers are getting tired Y'all gonna have to hurry here This snappin' thing's wearin' me out There's old Shannon I guess he was on a coffee break They're gonna love you 'Cause they already love me Yea, it's the critic