He was a long-haired cat on a rocking farm
He was the blues in a hat over the morning’s alarm
It was in the countryside amongst the rolling stock
With the guitar pick that played the commune rock
It was the Vietnam War when they turned aside
To try to be free in the countryside
They burned their cards they burned their suits
They live like gypsies in cowboy boots
To the festival they would go and flock
With the guitar amp and the commune rock
They broke the barricades and the walls came down
They rocked to the blues in the crossroads town
It was these changing times that boke the jailers back
With an electric axe that played the commune rock
They tried to break their symphony; they tried to top the song
They made new regulations saying it was wrong
To play the commune rock
To stand on a stage like in a high court dock
And make their plea for the commune rock
They brought in armed policemen, they brought in GCE’s
They stopped the artists painting and the music that was fee
But the albums had been made the vinyl had been pressed
The music went around the world; it passed the old grey whistle test
It had rose up through the music charts it was in the record shops
It went out from the dance halls and became the commune rock
