Oh, we're big rock singers. We got golden fingers. And we're loved everywhere we go. We sing about beauty, And we sing about truth At ten thousand dollars a show. We take all kinds of pills To give us all kind of thrills, But the thrill we've never known Is the thrill that'll getcha When you get your picture On the cover of the Rolling Stone.
Rolling Stone... Wanna see my picture on the cover. Stone... Wanna buy five copies for my Mother. Stone... Wanna see my smiling face On the cover of the Rolling Stone.
I got a freaky old lady Named Cocaine Katy Who embroiders all my jeans. Got my poor old grey-haired daddy Drivin' my limousine. It's all designed to blow our minds, But our minds won't really get blown Like the blow that'll getcha When you get your picture On the cover of the Rolling Stone.
We gotta lotta little teenage blue-eyed groupies Who do anything we say. We got a genuine Indian guru Who's teaching us a better way. We got all the friends that money can buy, So we never have to be alone. And we keep getting richer, But we can't get our picture On the cover of the Rolling Stone.