Coughing, blues?: "gol, Bret--don't touch me there!"
Bret: I'm gonna tell you who we are.

Well we're big rock singers
We got golden fingers
And we're loved everywhere we go
(That sounds like us)

We sing about beauty
And we sing about truth
At ten million dollars a show
(Yeah, right!)

We take all kinda pills
That give us all kinda thrills
But the thrill we've never known
Is the thrill that it gets ya
When you get your picture
On the cover of the rolling stone

Rolling Stone
I'm gonna see my picture on the cover
Stone
Gonna buy five copies for my mother
Stone
Gonna see my smiling face
On the cover of the Rolling Stone

I got a freaky old lady named cocaine Katie
Who embroiders on my jeans
I got my poor old gray-haired daddy
Driving my limousine

Now it's all designed to blow our minds
But our minds won't really be blown
Like the blow that'll getcha
When you get your picture
On the cover of the Rolling Stone

Spoken: Hey, I know how!!!

Spoken: Beautiful!

We gotta lot of little teen-aged
Blue-eyed groupies
Who do anything we say
We got a genuine indian guru
He'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 gettin' richer
But we can't get our picture
On the cover of the rolling stone

Talking:
I don't know why we ain't on the cover, baby
Ah we're beautiful fellas!
I ain't kiddin' you man, we'd make a beautiful cover
I mean, I can see it right now--we be up front
Oh, we be smilin'....beautiful!