Johnny wanna be a big star Get on stage and play the guitar Make a little money Buy a fancy car Big old house and an alligator Just to match with them alligator shoes He's a rich man so he's no longer singin the blues He's singing songs about material things and platinum rings and watches that go blink But, diamonds don't blink in the dark He's a star now, but he aint singing from the heart Sooner or later he's just gonna fall apart Coz his fans can't relate to his newfound art He ain't doing what he did from the start And that's putting in some feeling and thought He decided to live his life shallow Passion is love for material
[Jack Johnson]
And it's gone...gone...going... Gone...everything gone...give a damn... Gone be the birds when they don't wanna sing... Gone people...up awkward with their things... Gone...
[Will.I.am]
You see yourself in the mirror and ya Feel safe coz it looks familiar but ya Afraid to open up your soul coz ya Don't really know Don't really know Who is? The person thats deep within Coz your content with just being The naive brown man and ya Fail to see that it's trivial Insignificant, you addicted to material I've seen your kind before Your the type that thinks souls is sold in a store Packaged up with incense sticks With them vegetarian meals To you that's righteous You're fiction like books You need to go out to life and look Coz..What happens when they take your material You already sold ya soul and it's..
[Jack Johnson]
And it's gone...gone...going... Gone...everything gone...give a damn... Gone be the birds when they don't wanna sing... Gone people...up awkward with their things... Gone...
[Will.I.am]
You say that, time is money And money is time So you got mind in ya money And ya money on ya mind But what about.. That crime that cha did to get paid And what about.. That bid, you can't take it to your brain
[Jack Johnson] And what about those shoes you wear today They'll be no good On the bridges you've walked along the way
[Will.I.am]
All that money that you got Gonna be gone That gear that you rock Gonna be gone The house up on the hill Gonna be gone The gold fronts on your grill Gonna be gone The ice on your wrist Gonna be gone That nice little miss Gonna be gone That whip that you roll Gonna be gone And what's worst is your soul already gone
[Jack Johnson]
And it's gone...gone...going... Gone...everything gone...give a damn... Gone be the birds when they don't wanna sing... Gone people...up awkward with their things... Gone...
Compositores: William Adams (Adams Will), Jack Hody Johnson (Jack Johnson) ECAD: Obra #3505785 Fonograma #943700