Fortunate Son Songtext

von Wyclef Jean

Whoah!

No no, somebody help me now
Some folks are born made to wave the flag,
Ooh, the red, white and blue.
And when the band plays hail to the chief,
Lord knows, they point the cannon at you, don't they?

But it ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no senator's son.
It ain't me, it ain't me; I ain't no fortunate one, no,

Yeah!
Some folks are born silver spoon in their hand,
Lord, don't they help themselves, ooh.
The taxman give them the key to the land,
And wonder why there's nothing left for school in hell,

Tell me, it ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no millionaire's son, no.
It aint me, it aint me; I aint no fortunate one, no.

Some folks I know, inherit star spangled eyes,
Only to send you off to war,
And when you ask them, how much should you give?
They tell you more and more! more! more!
They want more more more, taking more more!
Send in more more more, wanting more more!

FBI, CIA, Secret Service
Tell them I ain't no fortunate one