Now, let me tell you 'bout Wayne,nAnd his deals of cocaine,nA little more every day.nHolding for a friend,nUntil the band do well,nThen the D.E.A. locked him away. nnClang clang, go the jail guitar doors.nBang bang, go the boots on the floor.nCry cry, for your lonely mother's son.nClang clang, go the jail guitar doors.nnAn' I'll tell you 'bout Pete,nDidn't want no fame,nGave all his money away.nWell, there's something wrong,nIt's good for you, son.nAnd so they certified him insane.nnClang clang, go the jail guitar doors.nBang bang, go the boots on the floor.nCry cry, for your lonely mother's son.nClang clang, go the jail guitar doors.nnAnd then there's Keith,nWaiting for trial, $25 thousand bail.nIf he goes down, you won't hear his sound,nSo his friends carry on anyway, fuck 'em!nnClang clang, go the jail guitar doors.nBang bang, go the boots on the floor.nCry cry, for your lonely mother's son.nClang clang, go the jail guitar doors.nnJail guitar doors,nJail guitar doors,nJail guitar doors,nJail guitar doors,nJail guitar doors,nJail guitar doors,nJail guitar doors,nJail guitar doors.