Текст песни Fortunate Son - Creedence Clearwater Revival

Some folks are born made to wave the flag,
Ooh, they're red, white and blue,
And when the band plays hail to the chief,
Ooh, they point the cannon at you, lord

[Chorus:]
It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no senator's son, son.
It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate one, no

Yeah!
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand,
Lord, don't they help themselves, oh.
But when the taxman comes to the door,
Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes

[Chorus]

Some folks inherit star spangled eyes,
Ooh, they send you down to war, lord,
And when you ask them, how much should we give?
Ooh, they only answer more! more! more!

[Chorus] (x2)

Некоторые люди рождаются, чтобы развевался флаг,
Ох, красно-бело-голубой,
И когда оркестр играет приветствие начальнику,
Ох, они направляют орудия на тебя, боже

[Припев:]
Это не я, это не я, я не сын никакого сенатора,
Это не я, это не я, я не один из везунчиков, нет

Да!
Некоторые люди рождаются с серебряной ложкой в руке,
Боже, разве не помогут они себе сами, ох.
Но когда сборщик налогов заходит в дверь,
Боже, дом становится похож на распродажу хлама,да

[Припев]

Некоторые люди получают в наследство глаза, в которых звезды флага,
Ух, они посылают тебя на войну, боже,
И когда их спрашивают: "Сколько мы должны отдать?"
Ох, они только отвечают: "Больше! больше! больше!"

[Припев] (x2)

Some folks are born made to wave the flag,
Ooh, they're red, white and blue,
And when the band plays hail to the chief,
Ooh, they point the cannon at you, lord

[Chorus:]
It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no senator's son, son.
It ain't me, it ain't me, I ain't no fortunate one, no

Yeah!
Some folks are born silver spoon in hand,
Lord, don't they help themselves, oh.
But when the taxman comes to the door,
Lord, the house looks like a rummage sale, yes

[Chorus]

Some folks inherit star spangled eyes,
Ooh, they send you down to war, lord,
And when you ask them, how much should we give?
Ooh, they only answer more! more! more!

[Chorus] (x2)

Some people are born to wave a flag
Oh red-white-blue
And when the orchestra plays a greeting to the head,
Oh they point guns at you god

[Chorus:]
This is not me, this is not me, I am not the son of any senator,
It's not me, it's not me, I'm not one of the lucky ones, no

Yes!
Some people are born with a silver spoon in their hand,
God, will they not help themselves, oh.
But when the tax collector comes in the door,
God, the house becomes like a junk sale, yes

[Chorus]

Some people inherit eyes in which the stars of the flag,
Wow they send you to war god
And when they are asked: "How much should we give?"
Oh, they only answer: "More! More! More!"

[Chorus] (x2)