Lyrics:
I'm in the wrong business
I swear i ain't lyin'
I stay hungry, broke all the time
I'm gonna send my guitar home
Leave these blues alone
I'm in
Mr. Uncle Josh. Would you kindly play me some deep southern blues on that hound-dog guitar there. Ah, now that's what I'm talkin' about. Yeah.
a guitar of gold to get your soul
'Cause I think I'm better than you
The boy said my name's Johnny, it might be a sin
I'll take your bet, you're gonna
his guitars
Hey quit stalling, it's two against one
Shut that dane up I'm gonna write a song
Woah, what would Johnny say
Woah, what would Johnny say
Johnny was a schoolboy when he heard his first Beatle song,
'Love me do,' I think it was. From there it didn't take him long.
Got himself a guitar
made of earth and wood
Where lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode
Who'd never ever learned to read or write so well
He could play a guitar just
Though he loved to rock and roll
All these many years
He cared about the old people's
And little children's ears
Though he was a guitar man
He
a country boy named Johnny B. Goode
Who never ever learned to read or write so well
But he could play a guitar just like a-ringin' a bell
Go go
Go Johnny go
I'm Just A Jersey Country Boy, joy ridin' down these country roads
With Dale Watson on the radio, in my sangria pick up truck
From Manhattan
a guitar of gold to get your soul
'Cause I think I'm better than you
The boy said my name's Johnny, it might be a sin
I'll take your bet, you're gonna
guitar
A little prayer from a country boy's heart
I hope Heaven has a barstool always open
And there ain't no closing time
Where all the drinks are
Spotlight magnetic razor rhythm laser love
Guitar, drums, load up, stun!
Ah ah
Ooh ooh
Jet Black, Johnny B ,Gene Jeanie, Killer Queen
Dizzy Lizzy
And Johnnys upstairs in his bedroom sitting in the dark
Annoying the neighbours with his punk rock electric guitar
This is the sound,This is the sound
lived a country boy named Johnny B. Goode
Who never ever learned to read or write so well,
But he could play the guitar just like a ringin' a bell.
Go!
doors, cheap whores
Couldn't get Johnny to bite
Johnny pulled up his guitar and he played it real hard
He said, "Devil, it's easier to play than to fight."
Johnny boy, he's always propping up the bar
He's sees life crystallized through his jar
He says he only lives for beer
But deep in his heart is
phone rang and a cute little girl began to sing this tune,
She said: “Mr. Watson I'd like to inform you your phone is turned off at noon!”
Now that
Rhoomba, V’Ger, Chappie, TV’s Watson, Johnny 5
Watched a season of Tattoo Wars, it insulted their AI
Skynet was really drunk but she convinced
apart
Baby-faced drummer breaks the little girls' hearts
Johnny plays guitar and Tony's blowing his sax
They just got back from Memphis, where they're
guitars same old faces
It's the same old song
But a different meaning since
Copyright, Johnny!
Copyright can't say that
Hey, yeah! All right what are we
Johnny want to be a big star
Get on stage and play the guitar
Make a little money, buy a fancy car
Big old house and an alligator
Just to match
some sucker moving on
Billy get your guns
All the whores are hanging out
Waiting to get paid
Billy get your guns
From some Johnny on the spot
I remember a young Johnny Cash
Waiting in the ways
Cause he'd hand me his cigarette when
He'd go out to sing
And the good old Marshall Chucker
Band
guitar in a rock and roll band
living his life in a song
Johnny thought Janey was out of this world
Jeannie thought Johnny was dumb
Janey told Jeannie her
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