If People Take Any Notice Of What

Now, In The Sixties We Were Naive, Like Children. Everybody Went Back To Their Rooms And Said 'we Didn't Get A Wonderful World Of Just Flowers And Peace And Happy Chocolate, And It Won't Be Just Pretty And Beautiful All The Time,' And Just Like Babies Everyone Went Back To Their Rooms And Sulked. 'we're Going To Stay In Our Rooms And Play Rock And Roll And Not Do Anything Else, Because The World's A Nasty Horrible Place, Because It Didn't Give Us Everything We Cried For.' Right? Crying For It Wasn't Enough.

My Father And Mother Split And I Never Saw My Father Until I Was 20, Nor Did I See Much More Of My Mother.

Happiness Is A Warm Gun Not About Heroin. A Gun Magazine Was Sitting There With A Smoking Gun On The Cover And An Article That I Never Read Inside Called 'happiness Is A Warm Gun.' I Took It Right From There. I Took It As The Terrible Idea Of Just Having Shot Some Animal.

I'm Not Going To Sacrifice Love, Real Love, For Any *%@$n' War Or Any Friend, Or Any Business, Because In The End You're Alone At Night.

If You Tried To Give Rock And Roll Another Name, You Might Call It 'chuck Berry'.