| He said drink deeply of the wine, my friend, breathe fully in the smoke |
| And eat the fish that he conjured, this is the bread that jesus broke |
| This is grape juice and cheap vodka, man, this isn’t even wine |
| I’m smokin shredded cardboard, eating sawdust baked with lime |
| This is not the truth you tell me, but some terrible, evil joke |
| Sounds to me like the counterfeit blues have got you by the throat |
| There seem to me an awful lot of charltans round here |
| And hustlers, cheats and anglers, fixers, sharps and mutineers |
| The factory and subterfuge and corporato cheat |
| Conspire to fast reduce us to the stamping of our feet |
| The lords of mass producto mass product at quite a pace |
| It won’t be long these counterfeit blues’ll run the whole damn place |
| These notes that you’ve been paying with are a little bit too green |
| The printing’s off, the ink has got a polyester sheen |
| Your bill has grown too large and now you’ll have to work it off |
| And your snout will have to make its way from the far end of the trough |
| You got suckered into tryin to make your make your money overnight |
| Looks to me like the counterfeit blues will be doggin you all of your life |
| The worn out western hat i got no longer smells like horse |
| And i can’t afford to keep one around now that rooster’s gone, of course |
| I guess i’ve left it all behind me now except for when i write |
| And sing ancestral praises of the ones who knew that life |
| Yes, years of rocka rolla have extracted quite a fee |
| Maybe them old counterfeit blues have been creepin up on me |