There`s a crazy sense of duty As he licks between his fingers And wipes the ketchup from his face and hands There`s a strong determination That his teachers never witnessed Never close enough to understand He`s like a bull Just bred for fighting And he don`t deliver nothing Outside the only thing he knows School-report just says he`s lazy His brother thinks he`s crazy But anyway, take a look `Cos there he goes... All through the avenues of fashion To the palaces of dreams All the way down Guitar Street To some, guitars are hot-rods All along the quest for macho To others a would-be ticket out of town For Joe; a six-string sten gun In the "panto-revolution" And Stevies all just strictly sound, And he`s just a bull that`s bred for fighting Just bred for fighting And he don`t deliver nothing Outside the only thing he knows School-report just says he`s lazy His brother thinks he`s crazy But anyway, take a look `Cos there he goes... All through the avenues of fashion To the palaces of dreams All the way down Guitar Street
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