SID McBAIN, AN UNLIKELY NAME

His name was Sid, he played the guitar
Had too many girls, not enough cars
His parents said: "You'll never go far"
He proved them wrong of course - isn't life bizarre?

So slow to grow beneath the flow
The flow of the high rise rent-a-kick tricks
Play now - we'll bill you later
Come meet our lovely denim-clad chicks

Time's running out, you've got to decide to be well
Life in a padded darkened out cell
Or love in a wickered teepee beside the sea
Sid, my kid, come hear my plea
I need your thoughts, I'm up to my waist
In half-baked notions and grim distaste
Put me down a hole and boil me in blood
Remove my liver as you stamp in the mud

Shave my intestines - get to the good stuff
Bake my bladder - come prove you're tuff!
Glower power - the might of the scowl
The blue toned bitter slip of a weasel howl
The silver tongued son of a salesman
Phony funky phat sprat
You're my guy, not fly, a bit shy
But centred, in tune with my thoughts

Dancing groovy girl thing
Help me practice my lover boy swing
The one that makes all the ladies go wild
The one I do with Sid by my side

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