"Rebel" lyrics
Daddy, when I grow up
I want to paint my portrait true
Daddy, when I grow up
I want to be a rebel like you
From hell to breakfast man cuts him a path
To his long home over yonder, east of the tracks
I've come to see the country not to make good time
Hang you a horse thief, hang you a card cheat or two
Snake beat the heat of his own vice
Ate his apples wild and did not forget to exercise
The bitter fruit of truth culled from the tree
Of vanity you cannot escape
Daddy, when I grow up
I want to paint my portrait true
Daddy, when I grow up
I want to be a rebel like you
Old Bill Faulkner, the whiskey chief
With his songs of life and his black-eyed peas
He spread his wings and flew across the big bad sea
Came back a poet with a beard and a coat of fleas
Bill walks into a Mississippi bar
God is dead, he screams, God is dead
But ain't nobody listening to the little southern man
Eating homemade drop biscuits and country fried ham
Daddy, when I grow up
I want to paint my portrait true
Daddy, when I grow up
I want to be a rebel like you
Fred Douglas begged brown to heel
Don't do it, Johnny! Don't do it, Johnny!
200 sharps and one thousand pikes
Don't do it, Johnny. Don't do it Mr. Brown!
Robert E. Lee and his fatal memory
All for the sake of his sweet Virginny
Hours mount like United States
Turning days to years, campaigns to clear our conscience
Daddy, when I grow up
I want to paint my portrait true
Daddy, when I grow up
I want to be a rebel like you
I want to paint my portrait true
Daddy, when I grow up
I want to be a rebel like you
From hell to breakfast man cuts him a path
To his long home over yonder, east of the tracks
I've come to see the country not to make good time
Hang you a horse thief, hang you a card cheat or two
Snake beat the heat of his own vice
Ate his apples wild and did not forget to exercise
The bitter fruit of truth culled from the tree
Of vanity you cannot escape
Daddy, when I grow up
I want to paint my portrait true
Daddy, when I grow up
I want to be a rebel like you
Old Bill Faulkner, the whiskey chief
With his songs of life and his black-eyed peas
He spread his wings and flew across the big bad sea
Came back a poet with a beard and a coat of fleas
Bill walks into a Mississippi bar
God is dead, he screams, God is dead
But ain't nobody listening to the little southern man
Eating homemade drop biscuits and country fried ham
Daddy, when I grow up
I want to paint my portrait true
Daddy, when I grow up
I want to be a rebel like you
Fred Douglas begged brown to heel
Don't do it, Johnny! Don't do it, Johnny!
200 sharps and one thousand pikes
Don't do it, Johnny. Don't do it Mr. Brown!
Robert E. Lee and his fatal memory
All for the sake of his sweet Virginny
Hours mount like United States
Turning days to years, campaigns to clear our conscience
Daddy, when I grow up
I want to paint my portrait true
Daddy, when I grow up
I want to be a rebel like you
