Lyrics:

(ChinnChapman) So your old man went and called you a degenerate bum And you stood there crackin' on your cinnamon gun And your Ma was knockin' at your sister's brains And you couldn't help thinkin' what she hoped to gain Just then that freak walked in the door And knocked me to the floor You said, hey man, you're on some kind of trip He said, don't give me no lip Just turn it down, come on turn it down I can't take no more of that God awful sound So for God's sake turn it down Now the suspicious minds of your learned friends Will eat away at your kind 'til the music ends And the creep that taught you everything you know Will hypocritically ask you what the hell you know He'll go out and mess around, then go home without a sound You said, hey man, you're some kinda monk He said, listen here you punk Just turn it down, come on turn it down I can't take no more of that God awful sound So for God's sake turn it down Turn it down, just turn it down Come on turn it down, I said turn it down Come on turn it down, just turn it down I can't take no more of that God awful sound So for God's sake turn it down