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The Acorn People
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Seventeen
I let my hair, let my hair,
Grow too long.
I let the radio,
Pick my favorite song.
I begged my momma,
To lend the keys.
I let the road,
Set me free.
At the ripe ol' age of seventeen,
At the ripe ol' age of seventeen.
Well by day, well by day,
I watched the clock,
Counting the seconds,
'Til it's time to rock.
At the ripe ol' age of seventeen,
At the ripe ol' age of seventeen.
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You got it bad,
You got it bad,
You got it bad,
You got it,
You got it bad,
You got it bad,
You got it bad,
You got it,
You got it bad,
You got it bad,
You got it bad.
At the ripe ol' age of seventeen,
At the ripe ol' age of seventeen, nah,
At the ripe ol' age of seventeen.
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