The Real Thing — текст песни (George Strait)

(Chip Taylor)

I was on a bus comin` back to us
From Atlanta in `53
And I picked up a Rhythm & Blues magazine
Layin` underneath my seat
And I found out the stuff they`d been playin` us
Wasn`t made from grits and bone
And it would take more than the Crew Cuts
And Pat Boone to take me home

I want the real thing
Give me the real thing
Make it loud I`ll make you proud
Or the songs they`d sing
I don`t want you under my roof with your 86 proof
Watered down ``til it tastes like tea
You`re gonna pull my string
Make it the real thing for me

I remember old Elvis when he forgot
To remember to forget
And when young Johnny Cash hadn`t seen this side of
Big River yet
And when sun was more than daylight shinin`on Memphis, Tennessee
And old Luther and Lewis and Perkins was pickin
And playin` them songs for me

I want the real thing
Give me the real thing
Make it loud I`ll make you proud
Or the songs they`d sing
I don`t want you under my roof with your 86 proof
Watered down `til it tastes like tea
You`re gonna pull my string
Make it the real thing for me