Pushed into cars,
Strapped down to a mortgage,
Humming a free song,
Following the liquors society,
And steering clear of ciggy vices,
Those were the wild days,
Of dreaming thoughts that were fantasy,
Dangerous to the boring,
To the cattle migration,
Without Electric guidance,
Don\'t do the moo,
That is one step from slaughter,
And beef bellies jiggling,
Greasy with suet