Jh - The Bohemian Hobo

Wish I was riding the steam train Right out of the pages of time Down through the ol' Roaring Twenties To the fall of 1929 Back in heyday of railroads Before airplanes fluttered and flew Color me in like a cartoon hobo Doing what bums used to do Songs from the great Jimmie Rodgers Hearing ol' Bing Crosby croon This is a song of how things used to be And a script of a hobo cartoon Show me hopping a freight train Somewhere south of the yard Make it a Santa Fe boxcar Paint it all rusty and hard Sketch out an old hobo jungle Make the old days come alive on the page Build a rough shack Down by thе track Weather it heavy with agе Songs from the great Jimmie Rodgers Hearing ol' Bing Crosby croon This is a song of how things used to be And a script of a hobo cartoon Sometimes things are great to remember Some are too good to forget Things back then were so different Some things we think of them yet Songs from the great Jimmie Rodgers Hearing ol' Bing Crosby croon This is a song of how things used to be And a script of a hobo cartoon

You should go and quit your job And make all of those dreams come true How is your self esteem? Huh? That's important in what you're about to do Don't talk to your friends Their opinion holds so much weight And it doesn't make sense Even your family Parents just don't understand Except for Will Smith, he's got a great understanding Make the time Drop school, and people, and work, to play Music all night You'll make an dollar an hour, at least you'll like your life And roll with the punches Even when it feels like you're getting fucking jumped But you're a real bad judge of it Hold on tight, boy Might be a fucking hell of a ride But, but, but they said it's a 3% chance That I'm gonna make it That's a little bit less than what it is in my mind But it's okay, I think I can take it They said it's a 3%, my friends That's what they said And then I sat there and thought about it And almost believed it for a sec But I think that they'll love me Yeah, if my soul is tainted and ugly Tainted enough where no one Should ever want stuff from me, but I'm lucky Lovely people say such nice things for no reason Except for the songs that I sing them When I was eighteen I fucking prayed to God That one day I'll sing and the crowd would stop But I'm still waiting For the jaws to be dropped and the bras to be sailing I'm still waiting For the big contract and a payment I'm still waiting For all of my own friends to eat all of their own words I bet it'll taste like blood sweat and tears And the fear of regret and that ever elusive 3% chance That I'm gonna make it It's a little bit less than what it is in my mind But it's okay, I think I can take it They said it's a 3%, my friends That's what they said And then I sat there and thought about it And almost believed it for a sec But now, it's me versus the world In a competition to see who could be less shitty Hold your own and if it floats your boat Then you should row that boat home But if my boat starts to sink I'll probably just stop singing and writing poems Cut my fucking hair and Quit eating like I'm homeless Get a job But I said, I made two hundred dollars in my first week Just playing music and being who I want to be She said "You think that's acceptable?" "You think that's an acceptable amount?" "I made twice the amount working at a shitty fucking job that I hate And every morning when I wake up I get really sad And I was just about to say at my friends birthday party Before they cut me off, I was just about to say Wait, wait, wait, wait You think that's an acceptable amount? It's a 3% chance You'll be happy Doing the same thing you do everyday For the next ten years I think that's a 3% chance That when I say "Today's the day!" You'll understand

Hi, uh-uhhh, what's up? My name's Frank Uh Hobo Johnson I hope you like this song I made it up for my dad, it's for you, Dad, hey My dad taught me 'bout The story 'bout the birds and the bees When the bees turn into wasps and take half of everything He sounded sure That a bird doesn't need a full nest But a bed for our bird heads to rest He told me son you'll never dunk (WHAT?) It's family tradition basketball is not for us Our legs just aren't that springy My great great uncle almost did but he didn't He told me son beware Of the monsters that roam the depths of your head Sometimes they'll make you real sad or Or real real mad, or real real jealous and That's real real bad, boy breathe Nicotine until you fall asleep like all of our family, breathe Nicotine until you fall asleep Like all of our family, like all of our family, like I'm the new Will Smith I'm-I'm Will Smith mixed with Michael Cera I'm Will Smith, Michael Cera Kevin Spacey Michael Cera My father's married to a shape shifting monster Who can sometimes take the form Of a really really really nice woman And although that seems super fucking frightening Sometimes this scary monster makes A really really great vanilla pudding, he has courage But sometimes your courage isn't quite the kryptonite As the monster runs rampant through the house Sometimes your courage makes you feel strong But it seems as if the monster eats your muscles all along Fucking pickin out your self respect right out it's scary teeth Her breath smells like pride of self And other men she used to meet And the monster doesn't sleep just schemes and fiends On the next tasty meal it gets to eat It gets to eat, it gets to eat I'm the new Will Smith I'm mixed with Kevin Spacy I'm the new Will Smith, Kevin Spacey, Michael Cera What the fuck