I ruled the world, you see,
and then the world ruled me,
a singing jester, a bloody fool,
one of those lads from Liverpool.
We came to America, land of the free,
but as our music grew, it stifled me.
My choice of partners made a stir,
and the world had come to ravage her.
But we made a home and found our place,
without all that screaming in our face,
to settle into a life of seclusion,
and perpetrated this fantastic illusion.
So a glad house husband I became
while Yoko worked to make her name,
and I, a Beatle, husband, dad,
was happy in the life I had.
But music, still my love and passion,
had lured me in a rhythmic fashion,
to feed this "Double Fantasy"
and brought the world right back to me.
But, a yellow-bellied bastard made his name
by stealing someone else's fame.
Mark my words David, he was a mean Chap, man,
couching there with a steady hand,
I sang that, "Happiness Is a Warm Gun"
"Mr. Lennon?" bang-bang, shoot, shoot. I was bloody done.
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