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Rolling Stones Exile On Main St

to follow you down. Well the ballrooms and smelly bordellos And dressing rooms filled with parasites. On stage the band has got problems, They're a bag of nerves on

woman's cussing, you can hear her scream, you feel like murder in the first degree. Ain't nobody slowing down no way, ev'rybody's stepping on their accelerator

Mister President, Mister Immigration Man, Let me in, sweetie, to your fair land. I'm Tampa bound and Memphis too, Short Fat Fanny is on the loose. Dig that sound on

Who's that woman on your arm all dressed up to do you harm? And I'm hip to what she'll do, give her just about a month or two. Bit off more than I can

to follow you down. Well the ballrooms and smelly bordellos And dressing rooms filled with parasites. On stage the band has got problems, They're a bag of nerves on