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Prisoner Of Funk

I've been having dreams of what may come to be

What a nightmare

Haven't found a job since I got my G.E.D.

What do I care

And in my dreams I am a short order cook

Slinging burgers and fries till the dawn

There's a jukebox in the corner playing loud

Funky bass lines

The counter man he sings his orders out in harmony

There's a counter full of people singing background

Everything I say

Is repeated one bar later

Five guys in the corner booth are clapping

Clapping on 2 & 4

When I spin up a shake

It sounds like budget synthesizer strings



Bums in the back alley playing percussion on the cans

There's bums in the back alley playing percussion on the cans

(Lord, lord)

Bums in the back alley playing percussion on the cans

I said

There's bums in the back alley playing percussion on the cans



I'm a prisoner of funk

I've got a jukebox for a brain

What happened to the way it used to be

Lord set me free

Let me wake up again

(Wake up now, you're gonna drown in funk, wake up)



Burgers dancing on the grill it seems

All the food is dancing in my dreams

Leather boys line up to get their orange whips

Popping fingers and a-singing

Scooby dooby do wha

Fat mama cass comes in digging into a bag of chips

Her voice sets the place to ringing

Yea, yea

The mustard and the ketchup make a red and yellow rainbow

Squirting high into the air

Watch those funky fried potatoes



I'm a prisoner of funk

I've got a jukebox for a brain

What happened to the way it used to be

Lord set me free

Let me wake up again

(Wake up now, you're gonna drown in funk, wake up)

Yea

I said yea

I said yea ahhh

Yea ahhh

Yeah ohahhh

A ha, ah aha

I been having dreams

Yea, yea, yea, yea

Prisoner Of Funk /

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