Tekst: Christer Slaaen/Phil Madeira    Musikk: Christer Slaaen/Phil Madeira

well, some friends of ours were doing mighty fine
had a band and a van and a credit line
playing clubs and dives across the USA
they had dressing rooms stocked with beer
manuel suits and vintage gear
while bands like us had to pay to play
it got harder and harder to wish them well
I admit that we were jealous as hell
we were greener than a twenty dollar bill
their star kept climbing higher and higher
we dreamt their van would catch on fire
but they sold more records than we ever will

with our faces pressed against the window pane
like beggars, just a band without a name
it ain’t fair, it ain’t right
but I guess that’s just life
so where’s our fifteen minutes of fame?

raise a glass to the rest of us
riding down the road in a minibus
the warm-up act you watch for free
working day jobs in a factory
I ain’t gonna cry
cause no one’s ever gonna hear
I’m just gonna try
to give myself another year

those pals of ours bought homes and cars
played stadiums instead of bars
went to their gigs in separate limousines
lawsuits pending all the time
power plays and corporate crime
you can ask the Eagles, they know what I mean

now they’re living in their mansions all alone
got their lawyers with them on the telephone
life is funny, life is mean
call it living the dream
baby love me like a rock when I get home

well, they got together for a string of shows
40 cities and the money flowed
and they only had to smile for an hour
but backstage it was pretty grim
from vegan chili to heroin
just a bunch of spoiled kids with too much power

and I wonder if they reminisce and think
about those gigs they played for tips and chicks and drinks
life was good in those days
until money took the place
of the reason we all do anything