Serve Yourself
John Lennon
You say you found Jesus Christ
Heīs the only one
You say you found Buddha
Sitting in the sun
You say you found Mohammed
Facing to the East
You say you found Krishna
Dancing in the street
Well thereīs somethinī missinī in this God almighty stew
And itīs your mother
Your mother, donīt forget your mother, lad
You gotta serve yourself
Nobody gonna do it for you
You gotta serve yourself
Nobody gonna do it for you
Well you may believe in devils and you may believe in laws
But if you donīt go out and serve yourself, Lad (Ainīt no room service here ...)
Itīs still the same old story
A bloody holy war
A fight for love and glory
Ainīt gonna study war no more
A fight for God and country
Weīre gonna set you free
Weīll put you back in the stone age
If you wonīt be like me.
Get it?
You gotta serve yourself
Ainīt nobody gonna do it for you
You gotta serve yourself
Ainīt nobody gonna do it for you
Yeah, you may believe in devils and you may believe in laws
But Christ, you gonna have to serve yourself and thatīs all there is to it
So get right back here, itīs in the bloody fridge!
God, when I was a kid, we didnīt have stuff like this, TV fucking dinners and all that crap!
You fuckinī kids, all fuckinī the same, want a fuckinī car now?
Lucky to have a pair of shoes?
You tell me you found Jesus Christ
Thatīs great and heīs the only one
You say youīve just found Buddha
And heīs sitting on his arse in the sun
You say you found Mohammed
Kneelinī on a bloody carpet, facinī East
You say you found Krishna
With his bald head, dancing in the street
Well christ now and youīre beinī heard
You gotta serve yourself
Ainīt nobody gonna do it for you, thatīs right, lad
You better get that straight into your fuckinī head!
You gotta serve yourself, you know that, who else is gotta do that for you
It ainīt me, kid, I tell you that
Well you may believe in Jesus
And you may believe in Marx
And you may belive in Marks and Spencers
And you may even believe in bloody Woolworths
But thereīs something misinī in this whole bloody stew
And itīs your mother, your poor bloody mother
She worked for you in the back bedroom
Full of piss and shit and fuckinī midwives
God, you canīt forget that awful moment, you know
You should have been in the bloody war, lad, and you would know all about it
Well Iīll tell you somethinī
Itīs still the same old story
A holy boody war
You know with the pope and all that stuff
A fight for love and glory
Ainīt gonna study no more war
A fight for God and country and the Queen and all that
Weīre gonna set you free, yeah
Bomb ya back into the fuckinī stone age if you wonīt be like me
You know, now get down on your knees and pray
Well thereīs somethinī missinī in this God almighty stew
And itīs your god damn mother, you dirty little git
Now get in there and was your ears.