Na Na Na Songtext
von Cozy Powell
Na Na Na Songtext
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
When I was a kid, my old man said to me
"When you grow up son what′s it gonna be?
You gonna go to school and get a degree?
Or you gonna go work in a factory?"
I said, "Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na"
I know what I want and I know what I can
And I wanna get a job in a rock n roll band
Well, the man at the desk said
"I know how you feel
But how'd ya like a job fixin′ automobiles
Your card says you got no musical training"
I said, "Hey, look man
You just don't get my meaning"
I don't wanna be no guitar star
And the man on the piano works too damn hard
And the bass man he don′t cop for no glamour
I wanna be the man with the fifty pound hammer goin′ (goin')
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
I know you get your kicks
Playing Hendrix licks
You′re a wizard of Wembley Central
You're the J. S. Bach of Belsize park
And me I′m just plain mental
But when I play my boogie
When I play my blues
It's like a whole tank regiment on the move
You can play the notes, you can tell the story
Me I′ll just settle for the power and the glory
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
When I was a kid, my old man said to me
"When you grow up son what′s it gonna be?
You gonna go to school and get a degree?
Or you gonna go work in a factory?"
I said, "Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na"
I know what I want and I know what I can
And I wanna get a job in a rock n roll band
Well, the man at the desk said
"I know how you feel
But how'd ya like a job fixin′ automobiles
Your card says you got no musical training"
I said, "Hey, look man
You just don't get my meaning"
I don't wanna be no guitar star
And the man on the piano works too damn hard
And the bass man he don′t cop for no glamour
I wanna be the man with the fifty pound hammer goin′ (goin')
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
I know you get your kicks
Playing Hendrix licks
You′re a wizard of Wembley Central
You're the J. S. Bach of Belsize park
And me I′m just plain mental
But when I play my boogie
When I play my blues
It's like a whole tank regiment on the move
You can play the notes, you can tell the story
Me I′ll just settle for the power and the glory
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na-na
Writer(s): Zachary Wallace, Cornell Haynes, Jasper Tremaine Cameron Lyrics powered by www.musixmatch.com