Fortunate Son

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Some folks are born made to wave the flag,
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ooh, they're red, white and blue.
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And when the band plays "Hail to the chief"
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they point the cannon right at you.

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

Some folks are born silver spoon in hand,
Lord, don't they help themselves.
But when the tax man comes to the door:
"Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale."

It ain't me, it ain't me, I'm no millionaire's son.
It ain't me, it ain't me, I'm no fortunate one.

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Some folks inherit star spangled eyes,
ooh, they send you down to war.
And when you ask them: "How much should we give?"
Oh, they only answer: "More, more, more"

It ain't me, it ain't me, I'm no military's son.
It ain't me, it ain't me, I'm no fortunate one.