Play on you stank-face jazz jocks
Peacock and shoot the moon
Folk song fare don’t cut your hair
Like the birdland bebop do
Two five ones at the top of your lungs
Widdershins ‘round the wheel
Like a puppy trained to kill, remember
Critics can’t write no song or they would
Famous ain’t get you paid like it should
Glory don’t make you great
But learnin’ how to listen could
So Berklee babies be good
Teach ‘em more accountin’ tools
Teach ‘em ‘bout mental health
They’re usin’ their notes like bullets
And smokin’ themselves to hell
Real nobodies and fake somebodies
Can you subdivide the years
With a paper souvenir?
Well, remember
Critics can’t write no song or they would
And famous ain’t get you paid like it should
Glory don’t make you great
But learnin’ how to listen could
So Berklee babies be good
Teenage-mutant prodigy
All ready to ride the bull
Mama tells you that you’re special
Daddy say, “toughen up”
Hope you got thick skin, kid
Just lean on Love Supreme
But never let ‘em burst the seams
Of your pocket full of dreams, remember now
Critics can’t write no song or they would
And famous ain’t get you paid like it should, oh, no no
Glory don’t make you great
But learnin’ how to listen could
So Berklee babies be good
Critics can’t write no song or they would
Playin’ the road don’t feel like it should
Givin’ a damn won’t kill you
But shootin’ the black tar could
So berklee babies
Be good
Find more lyrics at westlyrics.com
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Griffin Anthony Lyrics – Berklee Babies