George opened his eyes, saying: what is this place?
Have I fallen dead, or is this outer space?
People around here are talking about peace
“Revolution’s over”, or something like this

If something is wrong, fix it up in a song

Georgie got up, said: where is my mom?
I can’t seem to find her, I believe she’s all gone
There’s nothing to eat, the house is a mess
She left a note on the fridge: “I’m out getting ass”

If something is wrong, fix it up in a song

Now men will be boys, and girls shall be wives
The Lord has a plan, for all suffering and strife
Keep all women at bay, for if they be truly free
Aggression of men be just a faint memory

For the rule book has been written, by boys just like me
With fear in their hearts, of being forgotten, out at sea

For a woman of means, independent and able
Would never keep a man as a horse in a stable
She’d send him running free, for he can be such a pain
There’s way too much loving, you know, to maintain

If something is wrong, fix it up in a song

Well, Georgie’s quite like you, at times he is dim
But lately it’s been boring, being part of the scheme
He thrown out the rule book, got nothing to hide
A unique individual, still fighting the tide

He’s doing the folk clubs, finger in ear
The spark in his eyes all but quite disappeared
But when out on the road, he’s the king of a stall
At a rest stop in Texas, he’s running it all

Oh … if something is wrong, fix it up in a song
Oh … if something ain’t right, well, come see me tonight