Èñïîëíèòåëü: Creedence

Êîìïîçèöèÿ: Fortunate Son


Some folks are born
made to wave the flag

Ooh
they‘re red
white and blue.
And when the band plays
Hail to the chief

they point the cannon right at you.
It ain‘t me
it ain‘t me
it ain‘t no senator‘s son.
It ain‘t me
it ain‘t me;
I ain‘t no fortunate one.

Some folks are born
silver spoon in hand

Lord
don‘t they help themselves.
But when the tax man
comes to the door

Lord
the house looks like a rummage sale.
It ain‘t me
it ain‘t me
I ain‘t no millionaire‘s son.
It ain‘t me
it ain‘t me;
I ain‘t no fortunate one.

Some folks in her it
star spangled eyes

Ooh
they send you down to war.
And when you ask them

How much should we give ?
They only answer more ! more ! more !
It ain‘t me
it ain‘t me
I ain‘t no military son.
It ain‘t me
it ain‘t me;
I ain‘t no fortunate one. 
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