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C Nice to sit here, shootin' the breeze, Chompin' crackers and cheddar cheese, G7 Suppin' up the coffee cup by cup. Coffee's hot, coffee's strong; If Shel were here, we could write a song, C But he's so rich now, he's damn near given it up. C Ah, who'd have thunk it way back when? One of my favorite folk song men, G7 Old Bob Gibson, the finest of the fine. Well, he'd write a song with yours truly And make a couple of records with me, C Wind up bein' a personal friend of mine. F 'Cause you can't hang out with heroes - C They get cramps from holdin' that pose. G7 Sooner or later, they gotta break wind or sneeze, C C7 And the whole damned image blows. F You can't hang out with heroes C G/B Am Because a statue never bends, C G C So you have to turn your heroes into friends.
Now, Bob, I used to listen to Gibson tales,
Listen to tales of your great escapes,
The masked marauder with the old twelve-string guitar.
Oh, you love the ladies; you're one of the greats.
Now you're a wanted man in twenty-eight states.
One of these days, you're gonna go too far.
So now we sit here, catching some rays,
Talkin' about the good old days.
If anybody heard us, how they'd snore:
Couple of broken-down coffeehouse kings,
Too damn lazy to change their strings,
Talkin' about all the stuff they don't do no more.
'Cause you can't hang out with heroes -
They get cramps from holdin' that pose.
Sooner or later, they gotta break wind or sneeze,
And the whole damn image blows.
You can't hang out with heroes
Because a statue never bends,
So you have to turn your heroes into friends.
(Words and music by Tom Paxton, 1979)
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