Everybody asks me to explain myself, and please make it perfectly plain
So I answer, tra la la la la la la la, it ain't about profit or gain
If my money was a work of art, I would've wiped it off onto my smock
I get paid at half past nine, and it's gone by ten o'clock
I borrow pennies from Peter to pay Paul, from Jimmy to pay the bill
Sometimes I think I'd rather live in my car than visit Nowheresville
So I say tra la la la, tra la la la, it ain't about fortune or fame
Everybody asks me to explain myself, and please make it perfectly plain
So I answer, tra la la la la la la la, it ain't about profit or gain
If my money was a work of art, I would've wiped it off onto my smock
I get paid at half past nine, and it's gone by ten o'clock
I borrow pennies from Peter to pay Paul, from Jimmy to pay the bill
Sometimes I think I'd rather live in my car than visit Nowheresville
Brothers and sisters follow this rule and never ask why
On Friday collect your paycheck and find someplace to die
Oh brother, bury me not without my money
'Cause I know you wouldn't tell a joke without the funny
See the brother walkin' in his shiny velvet tux
He went and sold his mother for a half a zillion bucks
Everywhere it's just the same
It ain't about profit or gain
Oh my children, never listen to words of the man who hangs out in the woods
He'll try to tell you that love is the way and that your pennies are no good
He'll try to tell you that his heart is so strong that nothing can ever stop it
So bring him to me and I'll teach him how to sell that, too, and even make a profit
Everybody asks me to explain myself, and please make it perfectly plain
How can you exist without a new car, new house, new buttons on your blouse
You must be on drugs or insane
So I answer, tra la la la la la la la, it ain't about profit or gain
It ain't about fortune or fame
Charlie Bookout Studio Works - Profit Lyrics
Charlie Bookout Studio Works - Profit Lyrics
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Everybody asks me to explain myself, and please make it perfectly plain
So I answer, tra la la la la la la la, it ain't about profit or gain
If my money was a work of art, I would've wiped it off onto my smock
I get paid at half past nine, and it's gone by ten o'clock
I borrow pennies from Peter to pay Paul, from Jimmy to pay the bill
Sometimes I think I'd rather live in my car than visit Nowheresville
So I say tra la la la, tra la la la, it ain't about fortune or fame
Everybody asks me to explain myself, and please make it perfectly plain
So I answer, tra la la la la la la la, it ain't about profit or gain
If my money was a work of art, I would've wiped it off onto my smock
I get paid at half past nine, and it's gone by ten o'clock
I borrow pennies from Peter to pay Paul, from Jimmy to pay the bill
Sometimes I think I'd rather live in my car than visit Nowheresville
Brothers and sisters follow this rule and never ask why
On Friday collect your paycheck and find someplace to die
Oh brother, bury me not without my money
'Cause I know you wouldn't tell a joke without the funny
See the brother walkin' in his shiny velvet tux
He went and sold his mother for a half a zillion bucks
Everywhere it's just the same
It ain't about profit or gain
Oh my children, never listen to words of the man who hangs out in the woods
He'll try to tell you that love is the way and that your pennies are no good
He'll try to tell you that his heart is so strong that nothing can ever stop it
So bring him to me and I'll teach him how to sell that, too, and even make a profit
Everybody asks me to explain myself, and please make it perfectly plain
How can you exist without a new car, new house, new buttons on your blouse
You must be on drugs or insane
So I answer, tra la la la la la la la, it ain't about profit or gain
It ain't about fortune or fame
So I answer, tra la la la la la la la, it ain't about profit or gain
If my money was a work of art, I would've wiped it off onto my smock
I get paid at half past nine, and it's gone by ten o'clock
I borrow pennies from Peter to pay Paul, from Jimmy to pay the bill
Sometimes I think I'd rather live in my car than visit Nowheresville
So I say tra la la la, tra la la la, it ain't about fortune or fame
Everybody asks me to explain myself, and please make it perfectly plain
So I answer, tra la la la la la la la, it ain't about profit or gain
If my money was a work of art, I would've wiped it off onto my smock
I get paid at half past nine, and it's gone by ten o'clock
I borrow pennies from Peter to pay Paul, from Jimmy to pay the bill
Sometimes I think I'd rather live in my car than visit Nowheresville
Brothers and sisters follow this rule and never ask why
On Friday collect your paycheck and find someplace to die
Oh brother, bury me not without my money
'Cause I know you wouldn't tell a joke without the funny
See the brother walkin' in his shiny velvet tux
He went and sold his mother for a half a zillion bucks
Everywhere it's just the same
It ain't about profit or gain
Oh my children, never listen to words of the man who hangs out in the woods
He'll try to tell you that love is the way and that your pennies are no good
He'll try to tell you that his heart is so strong that nothing can ever stop it
So bring him to me and I'll teach him how to sell that, too, and even make a profit
Everybody asks me to explain myself, and please make it perfectly plain
How can you exist without a new car, new house, new buttons on your blouse
You must be on drugs or insane
So I answer, tra la la la la la la la, it ain't about profit or gain
It ain't about fortune or fame
Writer: Charlie Bookout
Copyright: Lyrics © Abandoned Mortuary Music, ABANDONED MORTUARY MUSIC
Copyright: Lyrics © Abandoned Mortuary Music, ABANDONED MORTUARY MUSIC