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Will Currie & The Country French
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They Killed Us
The days came when nights seemed to be just for laying down,
and boys like what we were aren't what boys like now.
And there was a time the radio would play a song and let it go,
but we saw them marching us to stand by that wall.
And they killed us, not from danger.
And they killed us, keep moving on.
Seemed clever to make the space and too steep to feed us.
And they shot Dan in the back of the head with the rest of us looking on.
The backbench was super young and called out for rolling heads.
The gallery had bet they gonna give them what they want.
And when someone stood to tell 'em off and claim that we were groovy, speaker
told them, No one's groovy since Cass Elliot was lost.
And they killed us, done by strangers
who had practice from shooting other ones before.
And they killed us, this rebel bunch of worn out players.
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And the speaker said, Thank God that Mama Cass had seen them off.
I blame the parents who taught them how to listen.
Gave fodder for the blues, pottery for rhythm.
They're taller than they look, and it's harder than it seems.
Dropped when I was only just 14.
You see, I didn't mean to say I was anything
but guilty of maybe loving Bernstein past his prime.
And the member from Waterloo said, Give us just a verse or two
of Krupke, then march yourself to stand and face the fire.
And they killed us, not from danger.
And they killed us, keep moving on.
Seemed clever to make the space and too steep to feed us.
And they shot Dan in the back of the head with the rest of us looking on.
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