Fortunate Son Lyrics

by C.c.r.

Some folks are born made to wave the flag,
Ooo, theyre red, white and blue.
And when the band plays hail to the chief,
Ooo, they point the cannon at you, yall!

It aint me, it aint me, I aint no senators son, Son.
It aint me, it aint me; I aint no fortunate one. No.

Some folks are born silver spoon in hand,
Lord, dont they help themselves, yall!
But when the taxman comes to the door,
Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale.

It aint me, it aint me, I aint no millionaires son. No, no.
It aint me, it aint me; I aint no fortunate one. No.

Some folks inherit star spangled eyes,
Ooo, they send you down to war, yall.
And when you ask them, how much should we give?
Ooo, they only answer more! More! More! Yall.

It aint me, it aint me, I aint no military son, Son.
It aint me, it aint me; I aint no fortunate one, one.

It aint me, it aint me, I aint no fortunate one. No, no, no.
It aint me, it aint me, I aint no fortunate son. No, no, no.