Timmy Tucker > (Live)
Timmy Tucker was a friend of mine,
He came from a long line of geeks.
His poppa was a horseshoe-throwin' man,
He was a horseshoe-throwin' freak.
His mother's name was Annabelle,
And his daddy's name was Zeek.
But he could throw them horseshoes, man,
He was a horseshoe-throwin freak.
Timmy was a different sort,
He wasn't like his dad or mom.
They wanted him to be
just like his older brother Tom.
Timmy'd get so close, so close,
So close, but not very long.
Couldn't even score a point
In hand grenades or atom bombs
Alone and tired he walked
The streets of downtown Exeter,
With a pocket full of rusted change,
A transcendance did occur.
Metaphysical reckoning of his purpose did infer
He should huff himself the short trek down
to the Army Recruiter
Poor... Poor, Timmy Tucker
Poor... Poor, Timmy Tucker
Poor... Poor, Timmy Tucker
Poor... Poor, Timmy Tucker.
Timmy finally freed himself
From the onus he called "Dad"
He'd let the army teach him a trade,
Surveyin' was his bag.
Seargent Goatlips was an evil man,
Cause his wife was a wretched hag.
Timmy blinked and he opened his eyes,
He was washin' pots with an army rag.
Our hero's life turned olive drab,
He was cast into a 4-year hell.
Livin' in barracks with forty men,
His loins did ever swell.
Timmy took a walk outside,
Lordy, Lordy, Lord he fell
A rock was tossed into his retina,
His eye was an empty shell.
With a check and a discharge
He hopped on the nearest bus,
Went down to Tiajuana,
Got a nasty case of PUS.
Metaphysical reckoning of his purpose did infer
He should huff himself the short trek down
to the Army Recruiter
Poor... Poor, Timmy Tucker
Poor... Poor, Timmy Tucker
Poor... Poor, Timmy Tucker
Poor... Poor, Timmy Tucker.
(Jam)
Timmy Tucker was a friend of mine,
He came from a long line of geeks.
His poppa was a horseshoe-throwin man,
He was a horseshoe-throwin freak.
Metaphysical reckoning of his purpose did infer
He should huff himself the short trek down
to the Army Recruiter
Poor... Poor, Timmy Tucker
Poor... Poor, Timmy Tucker
Poor... Poor, Timmy Tucker
Poor... Poor, Timmy Tucker.
He came from a long line of geeks.
His poppa was a horseshoe-throwin' man,
He was a horseshoe-throwin' freak.
His mother's name was Annabelle,
And his daddy's name was Zeek.
But he could throw them horseshoes, man,
He was a horseshoe-throwin freak.
Timmy was a different sort,
He wasn't like his dad or mom.
They wanted him to be
just like his older brother Tom.
Timmy'd get so close, so close,
So close, but not very long.
Couldn't even score a point
In hand grenades or atom bombs
Alone and tired he walked
The streets of downtown Exeter,
With a pocket full of rusted change,
A transcendance did occur.
Metaphysical reckoning of his purpose did infer
He should huff himself the short trek down
to the Army Recruiter
Poor... Poor, Timmy Tucker
Poor... Poor, Timmy Tucker
Poor... Poor, Timmy Tucker
Poor... Poor, Timmy Tucker.
Timmy finally freed himself
From the onus he called "Dad"
He'd let the army teach him a trade,
Surveyin' was his bag.
Seargent Goatlips was an evil man,
Cause his wife was a wretched hag.
Timmy blinked and he opened his eyes,
He was washin' pots with an army rag.
Our hero's life turned olive drab,
He was cast into a 4-year hell.
Livin' in barracks with forty men,
His loins did ever swell.
Timmy took a walk outside,
Lordy, Lordy, Lord he fell
A rock was tossed into his retina,
His eye was an empty shell.
With a check and a discharge
He hopped on the nearest bus,
Went down to Tiajuana,
Got a nasty case of PUS.
Metaphysical reckoning of his purpose did infer
He should huff himself the short trek down
to the Army Recruiter
Poor... Poor, Timmy Tucker
Poor... Poor, Timmy Tucker
Poor... Poor, Timmy Tucker
Poor... Poor, Timmy Tucker.
(Jam)
Timmy Tucker was a friend of mine,
He came from a long line of geeks.
His poppa was a horseshoe-throwin man,
He was a horseshoe-throwin freak.
Metaphysical reckoning of his purpose did infer
He should huff himself the short trek down
to the Army Recruiter
Poor... Poor, Timmy Tucker
Poor... Poor, Timmy Tucker
Poor... Poor, Timmy Tucker
Poor... Poor, Timmy Tucker.
Credits
Writer(s): Chuck Garvey, Rob Derhak, Al Schnier
Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com
Link
© 2024 All rights reserved. Rockol.com S.r.l. Website image policy
Rockol
- Rockol only uses images and photos made available for promotional purposes (“for press use”) by record companies, artist managements and p.r. agencies.
- Said images are used to exert a right to report and a finality of the criticism, in a degraded mode compliant to copyright laws, and exclusively inclosed in our own informative content.
- Only non-exclusive images addressed to newspaper use and, in general, copyright-free are accepted.
- Live photos are published when licensed by photographers whose copyright is quoted.
- Rockol is available to pay the right holder a fair fee should a published image’s author be unknown at the time of publishing.
Feedback
Please immediately report the presence of images possibly not compliant with the above cases so as to quickly verify an improper use: where confirmed, we would immediately proceed to their removal.