TEN THOUSAND FANS CAN'T BE WRONG

The devil’s at the wheel of a big black Buick
The beast is asleep in the big back seat
The light from the dash throws a shadow on the window
As the devil sucks the juices from the tender young meat

A cigarette smolders in an open ashtray
The air in the car is stale and dry
There’s a woman on the floorboard with a bottle in her hand
There’s a snake in the road, a fell moon in the sky

I think I saw his face before
On the cover of a Rolling Stone magazine
His face was tan, his hands were red
His eyes were green . . . .

Ten thousand fans can’t be wrong
Ten thousand fans can’t be wrong

The reporters all armed with their cameras and their clipboards
Satan steps from the automobile
Donald Trump announces via satellite
We finally find a way to strike up a deal

Deep downtown at the convention center
The backstage men mop the blood from the floor
The false prophet ties up loose ends in the lobby
The harlot listens in from the ladies’ room door

I think I saw his face before
On the CBS news in El Salvador
His face was tan, his hands were red
His eyes were green . . . .

Ten thousand fans can’t be wrong
Ten thousand fans can’t be wrong

He wants one world vision and one world center
One new age church, one melody
He wants to overthrow the powers, the priests, and politicians
And hang the troublemakers on cable t.v.

Somebody said it was Jesus
Somebody said it was the Buddha
I think I’m gonna be sick . . . .

Ten thousand fans can’t be wrong
Ten thousand fans can’t be wrong

© 1993 Charles Bradford & Todd R. Long
All Rights Reserved