| see i’m tryin' to start this rock band |
| and my drummer really needed a kit |
| he’s really into bonham and ozzy |
| you know he really likes to hit |
| so we spent our days lookin' at drum ads |
| 'cause neither one of us had a job |
| we circles this one cool offer |
| «cheap drums ask for bob» |
| we jumped into my pinto |
| and we flew over to his place |
| we ran up te stairs and knocked on the door |
| enter robert’s face |
| now ol' bob was a drummer |
| he lived with his kit in glendale |
| weddings and bar mitzvahs |
| he’d do any gig for half-scale |
| with his five-piece '69 slingerland |
| silver two-tone glitter |
| he played her skins like a gentleman |
| he didn’t like to hit her |
| like a mime with a megaphone |
| like snow comin' down in summer |
| like dr. king with a submachine |
| like rock n' roll and bob the dummer |
| bob the drummer |
| nnow he fixed us both some coffee |
| he let me play his snare |
| he lied about the good old days |
| and how he ended up here |
| we let him go on for hours |
| talkin' 'bout one-night stands |
| he said you gotta pay your dues son |
| i said i think i understand |
| he didn’t give a crap about the grateful dead |
| green day or pink floyd |
| but when he got down behind that set |
| old bob could make some noise |
| bob the drummer |
| we wondered where the time went |
| and did i still wanna buy some drums |
| my throat went dry and i felt kinda sick |
| when i offered him two hundred ones |
| he sid he guessed he wasn’t ready to sell her |
| you never know when there might be a gig |
| he shot me his best mona lisa |
| and took the last drag off his cig |
| with his mr. rogers sweater |
| and his velvet elvis eyes |
| he stared into oblivion and said |
| oh how time flies |