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Flat Out Get It

This song is by Webb Wilder and appears on the album Acres of Suede (1996) and on the album Scattered Covered And Smothered (2005).

Flat Out Get It

(Intro, spoken by Webb:)
Three. Two. One. Do you know where your accountants are? Would you believe young mothers have deserted their broods to dance at new age satanist rallies? Have you ever known of the Rock and Roll Justice League busting a locking tremolo in your community, or are they merely paying lip service to your local guitar authorities? These and other questions are raised in the following excerpt from Webb Wilder's motivational "Tips For Teens Manifesto and Rock and Roll Pamphlet." At this juncture, let us deviate from the preface to these illusory comments, to clear our minds of all secular and non-aesthetic questions and answers, which all will be covered in God's good time, and play the electric guitar.
(End spoken intro)

All right, ha, ha-ha-ha
All right, ha, ha-ha-ha
All right, ha, ha-ha-ha
All right, ha, ha-ha-ha

Come on little baby, don't you think its time to dry your eyes?
Something got you down, and Lordy knows I can sympathize
But why'd you even come if all you're gonna do is mope around?
Save it all for Sunday 'cause tonight we're gonna rock this town
Let you feet lose their mind
Do the dog, do the swim, do the Frankenstein

Well all right, ha, ha-ha-ha
All right, ha, ha-ha-ha
All right
Don't sweat it, flat out get it
I got a hunch you're gonna like it a bunch

Come on everybody don't you be a-sittin' on your hands
Pick a wall flower, start a-swingin' like ol' Tarzan
Make a monkey of yourself, be the best you've ever felt, I know
I'm a monkey man myself, I'm makin' peanuts after every show
That's all right, I'm doin' fine
You gotta stop and smell the dandelions

Well all right, ha, ha-ha-ha
All right, ha, ha-ha-ha
All right
Don't sweat it, flat out get it
I got a hunch you're gonna like it a bunch

(instrumental)

Well rock and roll is gettin' old, and now they got it sellin' soap
But it's my only vice, I don't need liquor, dice, or dope, no
What the heck, hit the deck, and burn the rubber off your sole
Radio don't wanna know but, I bet the mess will knock you cold (unclear)
Gonna honky-tonk all night long
'Cause tomorrow's gonna be long gone

Well all right, ha, ha-ha-ha
All right, ha, ha-ha-ha
All right, ha, ha-ha-ha
All right, ha, ha-ha-ha
All right
Don't sweat it, flat out get it
I got a hunch you're gonna like it a bunch

=

Credits

Written by:

Webb Wilder/R. S. Field

External links