Lyrics:

Ho, huh, yeah
Alright, alright

Been out in Northport, hung on her short shorts
Livin' with a bottle of wine
'Tween music ladies and burned out babies
I was tryin' to write a couple of lines
Sheriff Gribbs in his grim ad libs
Spoutin' about the crime in the street
And women were screamin' and some was dreamin'
'Bout the crimes between the sheets

You know that music died
Hurt my pride
But somehow I pulled through
Back in '72
Oh, oh yeah, come on

Somehow we made it to Baton Rouge
We stayed inside for a week
We weren't in time for no Mardi Gras
So we decided to sleep
Houston, yes, was a good old guest
Lord knows how bad we wanted to play
But we got homesick for Lincoln Park, imagine
And man we just couldn't stay

Tricky Dick
He played it slick
Something I's afraid he'd do
Back in '72
Oh, '72, oh, oh, oh Lord

Come on
Alright, alright, alright
Oh, oh yeah


And all our nouveau philosophers
Our windows for the world
Pessimistic pseudo-intellectual
Avant-gardish pearls
Takin' notes on the Holocaust
And copying 'em down on their sleeve
It was so hip to be negative
So square to try and believe

When the waters cleared
It was what we feared
We learned nothin' new
Back in '72

Oh '72
'72 Lord
Back in '72
Back in '72
Oh, back in '72
Oh, back in '72
Oh, back in '72
Oh, '72
Oh, back in '72
Come on, come on, come on
Back in '72 (Oh)
Huh, huh, hey