Ryan I.

Ryan I.


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Written By: Ryan Burrett

By Ryan Burrett 2010
(P.S - The chords for the chorus are F, Am, G.)

Everyone is gay, and everyone smokes pot.
Hey maybe that’s an overstatement but there’s a whole fucking lot.
Don’t ask me how I know or to name names - cos I’ll refrain.

I‘ve seen them stopping on the way down town.
I’ve seen them stopping on the way downtown.

The people who play it safe in their work place and in their family.
The architect, the tradie, the bus driver, barrister and the postie.
Even little old ladies writing letters complaining.

I’ve seen them stopping on their way down town.

Everyone should pray for a night of endless pleasure.
A holy fuck could save you and loosen your leisure.
Don’t ask me who I’ve been with or what I’ve seen between the sheets.

They made a stop in on their way down town.
Pollies, priests, and coppers – celebrated collars of this town,
Never seemed to keen to stop me as I was going down.

Everyone should be getting laid, should be getting laid.
Can we make it a rule?
How can the law stop you from getting laid? They should be getting laid instead of ruining it for everybody else. What fools!

So everyone be gay and smoke what you got. A holy stone could save you and drive up your stock.

All these stupid laws to please the Vatican and some pill popping, daddy-loving, son of no woman people.
Who are gay. They’re so gay. Their god is one man – hey that’s pretty gay.
And they run the state with fascist blind hate, they dictate to be straight and say you don’t have a place.
They say its hell or jail for the unnatural crime, of smoking a spliff and banging your mate.
If everyone was a little bit gay, a little bit less straight – there be no war you’d get your rocks off everyday, and wouldn’t that be great.

Guess I have to spell it out for you.